


Legend

by Hephastia



Series: Alex Barnes [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: #AU, #a little smut, #canon based, #canon divergent when it suits, #fluff, #terrible with tags, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-27 12:22:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 114,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hephastia/pseuds/Hephastia
Summary: Alex Barnes is done with her education and heading back to New York City to launch her career. But will it be a clean start, or will ghosts from her past come back to haunt her? Characters from Marvel and DC feature in the story along with original characters. Originally published on Wattpad in 2017.





	1. Fresh Start

I loved MIT so much. It was, to sort of borrow and reshape the concept from 'Sherlock,' a mind palace. My roommate Christine was nice, but I rarely saw her--her boyfriend had an off-campus apartment but her family insisted that she stay on campus for the experience. Yeah, so she was gone most days and nights and I had a functional single room. It was great, because I could study all hours of the night if I wanted. Christine and I were roommates the full four years of college, and I don't think she spent more than a month in our room over the whole time. It worked for both of us.

The first year classes were all general study stuff; I'd tested out of the first units of calculus and physics, so I got to take a couple slightly advanced classes in the spring. I ended up just taking the mandatory swimming test instead of the class since I wasn't comfortable revealing my body that much. I took archery in the fall because I wanted to be confident that I would have one class that I could kick ass in. And I did. Thanks to the Hawkeyes' lessons over the summer, which I'd taken as an activity to distract me from my therapy, I left the entire class in the dust, and the instructor encouraged me to continue, letting me shoot any time he was around, which was most days. I found four friends the first couple weeks, and pretty soon we were inseparable. Cara was there for nuclear engineering, Martha was studying physics, with an eye toward astrophysics for grad school, Margaret wanted to do Urban Studies, and Bess was hot for materials science. It was November before I mentioned my aunt; Emma Harrington-Barnes hadn't gone to MIT, but she was kind of a rock star in the field anyway, and Bess totally geeked out. I found that having the first semester be pass/fail really took the pressure off and I really thrived. I had therapy sessions into October, but the change of scenery was enormously helpful. Finding a gym to box at helped too; I found a really tough one in Boston. The staff were laughing when I came in, but they were not laughing when I left. It helped to be able to get a solid workout in. I couldn't go full force, but I liked it anyway. Detective MacIver kept in touch and periodically updated me on the Joker. He was judged to be completely around the bend and was placed in Arkham until such a time as he was determined to be competent to stand trial. Yeah, he didn't believe it either. It wasn't until spring that I was comfortable telling the girls what had happened. They were horrified, but it didn't change anything.

In the spring, I met a couple girls in my history class who were intrigued to learn I'd done the Spartan race twice, and we grouped up to run one at the end of March. We turned out to be a really good team; our time was the same as my individual time the previous year. We ended up making it an annual event; our last race we ran as an elite team. Yeah, we strutted.

At the end of my freshman year, I was able to declare my major in Biological Engineering. BE is a new and exciting field of study where engineering principles in design, synthesis, and analysis are applied to biology on the molecular and cellular level. Basically, the synthesis of the life sciences with engineering principles is used to understand how biological systems and processes work, and guide us in the development of new technologies, materials, and systems for many all sorts of different applications. What I wanted to do was work in mutations.

I thought that I was kind of a freak, but in Cambridge and Boston, I met more like myself. We all had mutations of various kinds; the only overarching similarity was that we would qualify as enhanced humans, not superhumans. Or superheroes. I'd met a few of us at the gym, where we seemed to gravitate because nobody gave us a hard time about being heavy hitters. I think that they owners might have encouraged our kind of patronage, because the equipment was reinforced to the point where even a superhero wouldn't be able to punch through it, and there were plenty of tough people to spar with. Most of us knew others, and we kind of made the gym our meeting point every Thursday night. We were all from the many colleges and universities in the area, grad and undergrad students, so it was kind of social as well as bonding. Some of us wanted to go the street hero route, but my experiences in New York absolutely discouraged me. I found another role for myself--trainer. It started out small, teaching one girl to box, to really get in there and hit. After watching for awhile, I got more of the enhanced asking to be taught, and I developed a kind of quick and dirty Systema self-protection class. The owners of the gym watched for awhile and introduced me to a real practitioner, the only one I'd encountered other than Bucky. Michael was surprised at my prowess, but it didn't take long for us to realize that neither of us needed to pull our punches or anything. It was awesome.

Aslyn and I were still close, we texted and called each other a lot, and got together a couple of times a month. I showed her around the MIT campus, and she took me around Harvard. We were strolling around one gorgeous day in late September when someone hailed her. She turned around and said "Oh, shit." I had to turn around too, and there he was. Damian. He jolted to see me. He'd seen Aslyn in the crowd of students but not who she was with. We made some awkward conversation, and he said he had to get to class. He rocketed off, and Aslyn, who knew the whole story, rolled her eyes. I laughed. I ran into him now and then throughout college, and gradually, I had to admit I'd gotten past ...it. In my junior year, I got a job off campus in a coffeeshop and I saw him a lot more then. Our friendship began to delicately reestablish itself.

I didn't date at all my first year, and only casually for most of my second year. I had a couple of boyfriends after that, but it never seemed to feel right. I'd gone through a brief period of casual sex when I started to date again, just to get the Joker out of my system and to see if I'd still like sex with another person or if I needed to get some more help. So the sex was always good, but I didn't feel a really deep connection with my boyfriends, which was why they never lasted. I wasn't too worried, though. I had a lot of stuff I wanted to do before I settled down.

In the summers, damned if I didn't go back to New York and work at Wayne Enterprises. Mr Wayne was building a cutting-edge unit in biological sciences and engineering, and I learned a whole lot, enough to get college credit for it before my junior and senior years. I also popped down periodically to see Dr Reynaud and we wrote two more books together. I'd been beyond surprised when my first royalty check had found me at MIT my first year. I stayed at the tower during the summer (different room, though) and sparred with my uncle as well as helping him teach when I had the time. Mr Stark was disappointed that I was studying biological engineering, as it was the one thing he didn't really do with Stark Tech, but he was gracious in defeat and turned out to be pretty good company, although we could clear the rooftop deck when we started arguing about engineering principles. He paid for my Brass Rat as he'd promised when I graduated from high school, and I took great pride in showing him and Colonel Rhodes when I went back that summer.

After I graduated, I went to the University of Southern California for their Masters in Biokinesiology , which was an understanding of the causal links between biological mechanisms and purposeful movements that accomplish complex behaviors in the environment. It also enabled understanding of how the human body adapts to growth and experience as well as to injury, disease, and aging. Biokinesiology integrates the study of movement at the molecular, cellular, organ and systems level, allowing for a unique, interdisciplinary perspective of the biological bases of normal and disordered movement.

J and I had a plan. He'd gone to school at Stanford for psychology on a football scholarship, then to med school at Johns Hopkins. We were scheming to have sort of a mutant-focused business. He was interested by my mutations and fascinated by the others I told him about. A lot of us had some sort of damage of one sort or another. To see if he could deal with it, I told him about the Joker and how I'd gotten through that. It turned out to be quite a learning experience for him. So he was going to enter psychiatry and take care of the minds. I was going to work on the bodies. I wanted both to study the mutation, assembling an anonymous data bank of genetic samples for study, working to develop each person's physical abilities, possibly incorporating a physical training component.

Both Mr Stark and Mr Wayne were interested in our plans and neither one wanted the other to win. Eyeroll. So we were setting up kind of a joint venture. They were bankrolling it, or would be when we got going, providing both financial support as well as patients. Emma's old frenemy Constance was beginning an extended process of retiring, and there was going to be a definite void in psychiatrists who specialized in superhero problems. I'd be working with Dr McCoy from the X-Men with the genetic stuff, but as far as the physical therapy and training went, I was blazing my own trail although I conferred a lot with Uncle Bucky, who was very engaged with our plans. I was going to be studying and training heroes, both super and street level. J being younger, I started first to phase in our operation. Since we'd be starting out small, Mr Stark made space available in the tower, plus the use of one of the guest rooms since I expected to be a little obsessive while I got set up. I started work on the first of June.

Descriptions of Alex's programs are slightly amended versions of the programs at MIT and USC.


	2. First Days

I walked into the suite of my new business with mixed feelings: pride, terror, curiosity. I had a front desk although no receptionist just yet; Tony (it had been really hard to break the habit of calling him Mr Stark, but he insisted since we were in business together) was going to send down somebody, but he or she hadn't arrived yet. I enjoyed the promise of the enterprise, smelling the new paint on the walls. I'd wanted a mural instead of god-awful art like you usually find in offices. Tony'd been offended, challenging me to find crap art anywhere in the tower. I knew I couldn't--he had a great art collection throughout the skyscraper--but he did understand the desire for uniqueness. Uncle Bucky had surprised me one day, coming in with an old sketchbook. He flipped it open to show me several pages of the body in motion. There were both male and female figures, but they weren't playing sports, which would make it kind of cheesy, they just showed movement. It was an odd sketchbook; about half of the pages were gone.

"This was one of Stevie's books," he said casually. "When you said you wanted murals, I thought of them." The studies were transferred to the walls of the waiting room and the hallway, including the doors. They had a faint Art Deco flavor, which added to their appeal, I felt. In any case, it looked sensational and I had a little plaque done up to give credit where it was due, including Bucky for donating the source material. He was bashfully pleased to be included and gave me the whole sketchbook. He said I wouldn't be here forever and if I liked the look, I should be able to use it wherever I was.

I passed through to the back. I was going to be using the clinic for the foreseeable future for sample collection to be sent to Dr McCoy--Hank--it was hard to get used to calling older people by their first names. He'd be handling the genetic analysis. I already had anonymized data bases from the X-Men and the Avengers; small sample sizes, but I would be taking samples from each client I saw. I wanted to study trends, see if there were observable links between placement of the mutations on the chromosomes and strength of the mutations as well as fine-tuning identification of what the mutations were by their locations. Any blood draws for additional information would also be handled upstairs for now. When the operation moved in the future, I would be handling sample collection. Because the threat of alien invasion from space was always a looming threat, municipalities had asked for people to take basic first aid and CPR; there were organized brigades for those who wanted to help more, and as someone who worked in physical therapy, I'd decided to use my anatomy and physiology classes and had studied in parallel to my masters degree. First I'd earned an EMT-B certification during my first year, and just a few weeks prior, I'd passed the state certification test to become a paramedic. It wasn't the classes that were especially difficult for me to get through, it was the hours of experience. Avenger Tower was always ground zero when the aliens attacked the city, and I'd much rather be doing rather than cowering in the emergency shelters. Wayne Enterprises--Medical was developing a blood analyzer that would enable us to take a drop from a client's fingertip, put it on a specially designed chip, and stick it into an instrument that could check for specific parameters that could indicate muscle damage or other problems affecting the client. By the time it was estimated to be ready, J would have graduated from med school and would be able to interpret them beyond a cursory comparison of numbers. We'd be able to give our clients fast, accurate results.

There was a short hallway; a bathroom, handicapped accessible, was behind the reception area, then a small dedicated custodial supply closet, then the big room. Since the staff for this side of the wall was just me, the testing area and exam room were rolled up into one space. I had an office off to the side. It was bigger than I felt I needed, but Tony had approved the extra space. He and Mr Wayne--damn, Bruce--had battled over who was going to provide the office tech. Tony had won, mostly because I needed his tech to interface with the tower systems. Bruce had taken over providing the equipment I needed for the work with clients, including extremely high-speed cameras that would allow me to analyze clients with superspeed, like Quicksilver, if he ever needed help. I was still waiting for equipment to arrive, but the treatment tables as well as the other furniture was set up. I went into my office and pounded out details until lunch, then I opened the door and went down a flight of stairs to the training room where I'd be helping Bucky. I had a pretty interesting setup. There was access to my office from inside the tower, of course, but there was also an external stairwell, well concealed, that street level heroes could use to access it. The Night Nurse was also moving into retirement, and Tony had agreed to discreetly provide emergency care to the population who were depending on her. He was using an extension of the protocols they used during the first Kree-Skrull invasion so that they could use their hero names rather than their legal names.

To my surprise, Hogun showed up with Sif for training. After I'd pounded on Volstagg, the Warriors Three had kept their distance from me. Natasha dropped by, and we did some barre work together, then I helped Kate to decide on a weightlifting routine that would increase her strength without going for a bulky look. It was a decent first day's work, which I ended with a full workout with my uncle. After dinner, I did some more paperwork, then went upstairs to bed.

The next day was very similar, as was the third, but on the fourth day, I had my first client. Colonel Rhodes came in, tapping on the door. I came out of my office to meet him in the training room. He was friendly, but the years of extra effort and pain imposed by his spinal injury had worn lines into his face and he had a slight but definite air of distance. I asked what I could do for him.

"Well, I'm having more and more trouble moving these days," he said. "Even with the best innovations Tony can come up with, I'm starting to lose ground with my mobility. I wondered if you could look at things with a fresh eye."

"Yes, of course," I said, and had him sit down on the treatment table and sign a consent so that I could look at the latest scans and tests they'd done upstairs in the clinic. The damage to the bone of the spine and the nerves in the spinal cord was plain to see. There were additional signs of arthritis, and the muscles were a little more atrophied than I'd expected. I thought back over what I'd learned in school and the news and trends I'd been following. "I can think of a couple of things right off the top of my head," I said. "Have you been evaluated for the new stem cell treatment? It's in Korea, but the results have been impressive." He'd heard about them, but wasn't sure about going so far for treatment. We talked about the exercise he was doing, and I had some thoughts about that, and I suggested that Tony redesign his exoskeleton. We went into the training room and we went through the exercises I thought would be most beneficial. He said that different muscles were being used, so that was something to consider. I said I'd research some other lines of inquiries I had--I needed to get out to Wayne Medical-- and we set him up with an appointment in a week.

Gradually, I started to get new clients. Mostly Avengers, but the street-level heroes started to show up, and Bruce came by for a nagging shoulder injury. Hank sent me a new kid from their school; his muscles were resilient like rubber, but he was having a hard time controlling them and movement was difficult. Normal ways of movement just weren't working, so we started work on alternatives.

I started taking part in social activities too; Aslyn was in cyber security at the tower, so we went out a lot after work and I started dating. I started running in to Damian in passing; he'd stayed at Harvard for his MBA and was now starting to learn his father's business, including Wayne Medical. He kind of choked on the costs of medical and medical technology development costs, but I encouraged him to buck up.

J was just starting med school and kept texting me gross stuff on the theory that my paramedic certification meant that I was happy with a lot of detail. No. Mom and Dad managed to sell their properties in Dimock and relocated in upper New York state, in a smaller town. Mom opened a coffee shop rather than a restaurant and Dad quit accounting and focused on his woodworking. I ordered a couple of chairs for the office and it was a proud day in my life when I paid for them. It meant a lot to me that I could pay for what I wanted, which was the best I could find.

New York has a lot of attractions, especially if you've achieved your majority. Margaret, one of my best friends from MIT, had moved here and was working for the city, and she joined Aslyn and me exploring the entertainment. Karen had done a year of college and had earned a place in Salt Lake City's ballet company in the corps, and Rill was working in Louisiana; she'd changed her major to geochemistry and was working for an oil company, so unfortunately they couldn't join us. But we decided nothing was off limits, and it was easy for me to defend us, so we went everywhere and sampled everything--the museums and other edifying places, plays and musicals, cultural festivals, window shopping, sporting events, nightclubs and bars, from the most rarified we could get into to dive bars. We hit the flip side, too; we went to burlesque shows, a couple of strip clubs to see what the fuss was all about, the erotic social club One Leg Up, a couple of sex clubs. We also went to places where everybody's clothes remained on--raves for the above college set, speakeasies, and Margaret, doing urban planning, always knew the most interesting, latest and/or hippest places to be. We went for the experiences, and I also kept an eye out for the enhanced-but-not-super set, discreetly introducing myself and passing them a business card . I had a spiel that I used to quickly acquaint people with my goals and offer an introduction to a growing community. New York was the best place to be if you wanted to be a street-level hero.

Then there started to be sort of a coalescing of the community that summer; word got around of all night diners where you could usually find other enhanced, then Red Heels (strength and agility, known for her costume's shoes) and Steel Hart (toughness and bursts of acceleration) went into business together and opened a bar for street-level heroes and other enhanced. Once you knew how to look, discerning another enhanced wasn't difficult. Normals who wandered in never stayed long and I don't think the supers even knew it existed. Since the age of the patrons skewed young, Red Eye was busiest after midnight through til dawn; it quit serving alcohol at the legal limit, then switched to non-alcoholic beverages and snacks from the kitchen. And it wasn't typical bar fare, it had actual nutritional value and was healthy; selections varied, but even the higher-calorie offerings for those with speedy metabolisms were good for you. I usually dropped by after saying good night to Margaret and Aslyn.

My business was starting to look healthy. In addition to the clients I got from the Avengers and X-Men, the enhanced were starting to trickle in. I took insurance and usually what happened was there was a visit to get to know the person, the problem, and what the enhancements were and how they were used, then a follow-up visit for improving an exercise routine. If I needed to put on my kinesiology hat for preventing and managing injury and chronic disease and helping to reach peak physical performance over a longer time span, I worked with the client on a sliding scale if the standard rates would be a problem. That didn't happen as often as I'd anticipated. What kept me the busiest was personal training with the Avengers. Uncle Bucky started making appointments for me. I was getting a reputation with the team, and almost everybody wanted to spar with me at least periodically, after which both Bucky and I could present suggestions for training and technique. Uncle Bucky would watch us spar, especially new recruits. Not everybody learned Systema; some went for martial arts, the strong men tended to stick with boxing, so it's always good to measure your skills against a different set. Kate and I were friendly; we'd go to lunch if we were both free, and I practiced archery with her once or twice a week. I was nowhere near as good as she was, but it was an opportunity to practice something I really enjoyed, and she seemed to enjoy the company too.

What needed to change was evident by the end of August. The street-level heroes were transitioning away from the Night Nurse, but they still didn't really want to go upstairs to the clinic. I found myself patching up the minor stuff when I was around, and sending only the serious stuff upstairs. Tony (he was finally learning to knock, you could see it everywhere, even in Emma's office) recognized the situation and carved out more space on my level for a non-emergency clinic. If I wasn't going to be around, I called upstairs and they sent a nurse down to man the little clinic. The street heroes who had pouches or pockets in their costumes usually carried currency, so we had a donation box set up. Those who didn't often stopped in a day or two later with a contribution. The little clinic wasn't self-sustaining, but about half of the operating costs were covered, which I thought was excellent. Emma did too; she'd helped to keep the Night Nurse afloat over the years.

This happy state of affairs lasted all fall. I said to Margaret and Aslyn over drinks after work one day, "It seems weird not be in classes."

Margaret nodded vigorously, and Aslyn laughed. "The transition is kind of weird. I only worked year round in high school, and that was still with class in the fall and spring. I'm not quite sure how to handle all the free time."

"We're managing to fill it pretty well," Margaret opined. And we were, too. Aside from our adventures together, we all dated a lot and had joined organizations, including our respective alumni clubs. 

"Here's to being young, gorgeous, and hedonistic," Aslyn said, holding up her glass, and we all laughed and touched glasses.

I couldn't believe how fast Thanksgiving got here. J and the parents came to the city and we had Thanksgiving at Bucky and Emma's. J spent time with me at the business; was going to be joining me, after all, and we both wanted him to be involved from the ground up, even it if was just informational for the time being. We were both eagerly awaiting his graduation from med school.

I started watching the 'For Rent' ads; the tower was lovely, but it felt like a dorm, and I wanted to be able to put space between my work and personal lives. Housing had come down a lot after the Kree-Skrull invasions as people moved out, but it was still too high for a person just starting her own business. I envied Margaret and Aslyn their apartments, tiny though they were.

But first there was the holiday season to get through, and staying at the tower was no hardship then because it was pretty centrally located. It was the best time of year to shine at parties, and we all had great swirls of invitations.

It wasn't a great season for everybody, though; the city experienced a serial arsonist who specialized in apartments. The press was calling him or her the "S'mores" arsonist because a branch with a marshmallow impaled on it was found at each blaze. It was a crappy thing to do, especially around the holidays, but there was a Go Fund Me account set up for victims of the arsons and New Yorkers gave generously to help out, especially because Christmas presents for kids were usually destroyed. 

I wasn't think about that just now, though. I was headed in a cab to the Yale Club for the Wayne Enterprises Christmas party; I'd scored an invite because of my work with their medical division. I didn't really want to go, all things considered, but I'd checked with Detective MacIver, and the Joker was still safely in Arkham Asylum, muttering inanely and drooling a lot, he said. He didn't get visitors or mail, and he didn't have access to the phone system or internet. So I got myself a dark red velvet party dress, tea length, with a full skirt, sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder sleeves. It was festive and showed off my shape but wasn't overtly sexy; this was for business, after all. I had black satin pumps with a crystal ornament and a lace shawl that was more to keep the snowflakes off my hair than for warmth; I'd spent a lot of time curling my hair festively. I gave my invitation to the doorman and walked in.


	3. Parties, Celebrations

I checked the scrap of lace and checked myself in a mirror before going out into the press of partygoers. It wasn't just Wayne Enterprise employees, it was also business partners (like me, I realized with a thrill,) potential associates, and clients. It was a huge party. I found Bruce holding court in a large room and thanked him for the invitation.

"It's good to have you back in the city, Alex," he said, gravely, taking my hand and giving me an air kiss. It kind of cracked me up. All these years, all this practice, and he was still stiff in company. "I'm looking forward to achieving important things with you and your brother." I smiled at the mention of J, who was still laboring away at finals, and he seemed to relax. A couple quick pleasantries, and I yielded to others who wanted a moment of Bruce's time. I got a little plate of hors d'oeuvres and water in a wine glass, and circulated, taking a few pictures for J and chatting with some of the people I'd been working with the past few months before finding an open spot on a very odd piece of furniture. It was a sinuous S the size of a love seat, but it looked like two arm chairs had been pressed together on each curve of the S, the upholstered seats facing opposite directions. It was in the Victorian style, so you have to make allowances for that. I nibbled (I'd eaten before I came so I could just enjoy tastes of the most decadent things) and relaxed, watching the crowd. Bruce employed a hugely diverse workforce and worked with anybody who had good ideas, so there were people straight out of college and the high school interns as well as distinguished people past the general age of retirement who just didn't want to give up their passions. The evening wear ran a short gamut of suits for men--along with a smattering of colorful kilts, but the women had considerably more scope. The quality of the outfits for both sexes varied from utilitarian to those who were trying too hard to those who got it just right to those who plainly were uncomfortable outside their work clothes.

Ron, a guy who worked with me on the high speed cameras, came over to introduce me to his partner Greg and we chatted a bit. "Kevin from electronics is already wasted," Ron warned me dourly. "He's like an octopus, I've been told, and hard to get away from." I rolled my eyes. There's always one.

I sat back on the weird furniture to enjoy myself and relax (and frankly, my left shoe was pinching my toes a bit); I looked over when someone sat on the other half. I smiled to see Damian. He'd grown into knock-out handsomeness; he had Bruce's build, broad shoulders, and strong jaw, but his Middle Eastern mother had given him a warm complexion and an exotic cast to his features. He smiled too, bringing up a dimple in his cheek. We chatted a bit, then I realized the genius of the odd furniture; it was very pleasant to lean into the arm that separated us and chat face to face. Then he asked me to dance. I remembered how he danced, but consoled myself with the knowledge that I could just enjoy looking at him.

I was surprised, though; a band was playing selections from the great American playbook of standards, and I settled into his arms for a version of "Night and Day." He led beautifully, and I had to admit I was impressed. "You dance wonderfully," I complimented him. His bright blue eyes lit up.

"It is an improvement, isn't it? I took lessons. I remember you were such a good dancer. I always felt like a dork." I tried quickly to find an appropriate response but somebody cut in before I could find tactful words. I groaned to myself. It was drunk Kevin.

He was normally very retiring, somewhat aloof, but with the addition of alcohol, he turned into the worst kind of party boy--loud, obnoxious, and his eyes never left my breasts, which caused collisions on the dance floor. Now, I'm proud of my boobs, they're my pride and joy right after my hair and I don't mind appropriate appreciation, but I like to have the whole package acknowledged. It wasn't as if Kevin was ever going to get to see them. Not after the embarrassment he caused; he held me too tight and had no appreciation for the flow of the dance floor.

It didn't take long until I'd had enough. I stopped and tried to get away, but it caused him to clutch me tighter. I felt a boner. That was it; I seized his wrist in one hand and bent a finger back to the point of dislocation. Works like a charm. He gasped, released me, and started to crumble. I stepped away and didn't look back. My disgruntlement took a hip check when I saw Dr Reynaud outside the ballroom; I got a hug and an introduction to his wife Mayte. We chatted a bit, washing away all the unpleasantness and we made arrangements to have lunch the next time I was at Wayne Enterprises.

Damian caught up with me at a bank of tall windows; the city is always beautiful when fat snowflakes laze their way to the ground. It was getting heavier, though, and I had to consider the effect of accumulation on my satin pumps. "Sorry about that," he said, handing me a flute of sparkling wine. I tasted it and smiled. It was a sweeter cava rather than than dry champagne, a pretty rose that looked smashing with my dress.

"Not your fault," I said, dismissing the incident.

"You look beautiful tonight," he said, taking the hint. "Crimson is a great color on you." I smiled.

"So.... how are the nights treating you?" I asked. His grin flashed.

"Not bad, for the most part, but I gotta say that I really appreciate that tissue accelerator more every year," he said lightly, but I couldn't help a wince. His hand brushed my bare shoulder, moving a curl back. "Haven't had anything serious since high school."

"I must be bad luck," I said lightly. He snorted.

"Very doubtful," he said. "I didn't do much during college and business school." He hesitated. "I wasn't sure you'd want to come tonight." My smile twisted a little.

"I called Detective MacIver, just checking," I said. I looked around. "Just between the two of us," I said, leaning in, "I have to say I like the MIT club better. Less...traditional."

He laughed. "You won't like the Harvard Club much, then." I grinned. He put his hand on my waist and we watched the snow fall. His thumb stroked my side. "I really like velvet," he said as an explanation, and we stood there in companionable silence until our wine was gone and a young blonde woman asked Damian to dance. I recollected that he must have duties, this being his company party, and apologized for monopolizing him. He kissed my cheek and said he'd talk to me soon. We parted company and I decided to leave to avoid ruining my shoes. The business was doing surprisingly well, but I wasn't paying myself much yet. I'd had a good chunk of change left over from the mad money Bucky had given me for college and a second allotment for grad school, and my party clothes budget came out of that.

I reclaimed my stole and to my surprise, ran into Alfred. He was starting to look his age, but was as calm and unruffled as ever. "Miss Alex," he said as I kissed his cheek. "How lovely you look."

"It's wonderful to see you," I said, and he smiled.

"I hear impressive things of you from Master Bruce," he said. "It is, of course, no surprise." We chatted a bit, and when I mentioned the little clinic, he invited me back out to the Bat cave to look at his setup. I wouldn't be at the tower forever, and a nice long look around when I wasn't all distracted by trauma would be instructional. He came outside and hailed me a cab, seeing me into it and blithely ignoring the looks from the doormen who weren't happy that they were being cut out of a possible tip.

The next night was Tony's shindig for his employees, associates, and clients, and Aslyn came over to get ready with me. I had a winter white, tea-length dress with long sleeves, pockets (yay!) and an extravagant skirt with matching satin shoes; she wore a more traditional LBD. It wasn't an Avengers party, they had their own, but most of them like to show up anyway; I knew Uncle Bucky and Emma would be there. This party was in the tower, so I had the comfort of not monitoring the weather and cabs were close by for everyone else. It was a hipper party than Bruce's but I didn't like the band as much. And the presence of the Avengers, as fun as it was for most people to brush shoulders with them, had a little dampening effect on the festivities; it was as if the concentration of that many heroes might invite trouble. Either that, or everybody just was on their best behavior. There were certainly no drunk employees running around inappropriately, which was a definite bonus. Non bonus: I didn't get to flirt as much.

The days sped through to Christmas, the evenings often had some kind of seasonal party. I was glad to take a break for the holiday and went to my parent's for a couple of days. J came back with me and spent a few days before going back to campus early to get a head start on his classes. He'd done really well in his first semester, all As and A minuses. I introduced him to some of the street heroes I'd gotten to know; they were interested to meet him. Even crime took a bit of a break between Christmas and New Years and I carved out some time to go visit Alfred. He picked me up and I gave him a pair of gloves I'd knitted for him. Bucky had finally cracked me and I'd taken lessons from him. Helped to pass the time when I worked in the little clinic. Alfred showed me the guts of their remarkable surgical suite as well as the less automated room where he patched up the less urgent damage. I had a lot of questions and he discussed things he'd do differently after working in both suites for so long. He drove me back to the tower with a basket of delicious baked goods.

Aslyn had gotten us invitations to a New Years Eve party at the St Regis, very ritzy. I wore a long midnight blue silk satin dress that draped my body like oil; it had a plain front with a halter neck and the back was open to below the waist. It looked austere, but I put jasmine flowers into my updo and it looked pretty darned good, if I said so myself. We started off with dinner before the party.

"I think I finally feel like a grown-up," I said as Margaret sprung for a bottle of champagne. She and Aslyn started to laugh.

"Well, I've got my own business--for now, anyway, until J finishes school--and I've been adulting hard. Networking, meetings, late nights. And enjoying myself, too." I raised my glass to my partners in crime, defending myself. They grinned and the crystal chimed. "I've gone to formal parties before, but in grad school I was going full out with the classes for my masters and the paramedic certification. So this is the first really adult New Years Eve I've had."

Aslyn leaned forward; she wore dangling tanzanite earrings and a simple gown with spaghetti straps; a nude lining that closely matched her skin tone, overlaid by fine black lace. The effect was a lot more revealing than the gown really was. "It's nice to be finally be on my own, seeing what I can make of myself. Tony Stark has an amazing cyber security department, so I'm pretty sure I can go far."

Margaret nodded, splendid in an emerald green gown that was slit high on her thigh and had a plunging neckline. Like me, she wore plain diamond stud earrings. "Here's to us. Worthy among your friends! Drink that you may live!"

"Oh, the benefits of a classical education," said Aslyn, and we laughed. "Here's one--Drink! And live among the good!"

"We seem to have no problem drinking," I said wryly, and tried to think. "Grr.... I can't remember any moldy toasts from antiquity. This will have to do. 'Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every New Year find you a better man.'"

"I like that, especially the part about the men," Margaret said, as we smirked. "Who said that?"

"Ben Franklin," I said. "He was quite a libertine, but I think he meant that last bit in a different way." We guffawed and drank. After our light meals--nobody's dress had much room for expansion--we made our way to the St Regis. It was an imposing building, and the city's great and good (and those of us hoping to be) made our way into the exquisite ivory and gold lobby to the elevators, up to the twentieth floor ballroom. It wasn't long before we were asked to dance, and none of us lacked for partners. Several of them had taken rooms for the evening and I got my share of propositions, but I didn't take anybody up on their offers.

"Right," Aslyn said. "This dress isn't coming off for just anybody," she said flippantly, and she got more smiles than from just us as we reconvened in the sumptuous ladies' room. After checking our makeup, we went back out, where I promptly ran right into a broad chest covered with an eyeblindingly white tuxedo shirt and onyx shirt studs. I looked up to see Damian. He was surprised to see me too, but recovered fast. I introduced Margaret and he greeted Aslyn, then introduced his friends too--Davison Rockefeller and Harrison McCormick. This time when we returned to the ballroom, we had escorts. Davison immediately offered Aslyn his arm and Harrison was prompt in doing the same for Margaret. I took Damian's arm and we brought up the rear.

"They're decent guys," Damian said in my ear. It wasn't as if I was worried about Aslyn or Margaret's ability to figure out this for themselves, but I appreciated the comment anyway. This time when we danced, nobody cut in, and as midnight approached, there were more slow pieces played by the band. Just as well, the dance floor was very crowded and there wasn't room for more vigorous dancing. At ten to midnight, the waiters began circulating with party hats and noisemakers. I snagged him a purple top hat and a pink foil kokoshnik for myself. He returned with champagne for both of us and donned his hat before delicately placing mine to avoid messing up my hair. "Sorry, they didn't have anything sweeter," he apologized.

"This is great, thank you," I said. I never noticed the taste as much when there were other things to look at anyway. 

"Do you want to go to dinner next week?" he asked, and as I opened my mouth to agree, he continued, "as a date. Not just friends." He looked at me over the rim of his flute as he took a drink. I felt kind of fluttery.

"I'd like that," I found myself saying. And smiled. He smiled. When the countdown started, we counted along, and he bent slightly to kiss my cheek at midnight. I turned slightly and our lips brushed. Then we had a longer kiss, but nothing unseemly, we were in public, after all. As we parted, I stood on tiptoe and said, just for him to hear, "I don't want to go too fast. But I definitely want to go." His grin was warm and intimate. He kissed my fingers.

"So do I."

This time, when the music started up again, I was conscious when he held me closer, the feel of his hand on the bare skin of my back. I hoped that I wasn't making a colossal mistake. There was the business relationship to consider, and I'd come to like being friends again. But now I had this itch. But we'd agreed to take it slowly, so... I guess we'd see.


	4. Date night

I'd gotten the results of all the inquiries I'd made for Colonel Rhodes and had talked to Tony about the exoskeleton and the War Machine suits. The news wasn't good. Even with supportive therapies like physical therapy, massage, and acupuncture, Colonel Rhodes' superheroing days were coming to a close unless he chose the nanotech treatment in Korea, and even that wasn't a sure thing. Tony came down to be with his friend when I broke the news. He took the news stoically and went upstairs to double-check with the doctors and think about what I'd said. I sent the more detailed information on the treatment to his email and sighed.

Tony had stayed behind. "Do we have any massage therapists on staff?" he asked. We did not. "Acupuncturists?" I shook my head.

"But I can make some recommendations," I said. Tony frowned and took out his phone. I waited patiently. He started flicking things from his phone to the areas defined by projectors and I sighed as I saw details for educational programs and accreditations pop up.

"Look here," he said. Like I had a choice. Panels of data now filled my treatment room. "Pacific College of Oriental Medicine has a campus in the city. They have one of the best programs in the country for acupuncture. You could probably get credit for anatomy and physiology, it wouldn't take quite as long."

"It is going to take time, though," I said gently. "Colonel Rhodes is still going to have to find some specialists."

"Yeah, but if you get started, you could take over his care. Plus it would be good for your business. I'll pay for the courses of study and any licensure fees," he said intensely. Tony's loyalty is the thing I like best about him, even ahead of the ideas that gestate in that brain of his and spring forth fairly well planned. And while part of his concern was to keep his bestie in the War Machine suit--both as his most trusted comrade but also because Colonel Rhodes was clinging to it--he would also want to ease his transition out of the suit and maintain as much quality of life as possible.

I caved. "You do realize that it's too late to apply for this semester," I warned. "Damn. I was just starting to really enjoy being out of school."

Tony smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll take care of the application. Most of the information is in your personnel file, I'll call for the rest," he said, and bounced to his feet and out the door before I could say anything. And damned if he didn't have it ready for submitting in under an hour.

The next night I walked into the Bar Room of the 21 Club; Damian had already been seated. He was early; I checked my watch discreetly to be sure. He jumped to his feet with a smile on his face which brought a smile to mine; it's always nice when somebody is so glad to see you. He held my chair after kissing my cheek, cutting out the maitre d', who perhaps wasn't best pleased at the usurption of his duty but wasn't about to make a fuss.

"You look beautiful as always," he said, watching me over his menu. I'd raced upstairs after work and was wearing an LBD, a little cliched but appropriate for the room.

"Thank you," I said. "That's a lovely tie." It really was, I wasn't being superficial. It had been woven of lustrous silk and shaded through blues and purples through the length of the tie. He patted it a little self-consciously. We ordered oysters for an appetizer and discussed our days. When the waiter returned, I ordered the famous creamy chicken hash and Damian the 21 burger with a side of sauteed spinach.

"So somehow Tony got the school to expedite my application," I said ruefully, loosening an oyster. "I start next week with massage classes, since that will be a lot faster than the acupuncture." I slurped the oyster and reached for another. Damian was staring at me.

"No more oysters," he said hoarsely. "It's ridiculous to be this turned on by the sight of you swallowing seafood." Attempting to control my laughter, I choked on my oyster. He got up to pat my back and I was able to observe the tenting effect a little more closely than he realized. I stored the information away in case I wanted to rile him up some time.

The waiter took the dish away and we moved on to safer topics. He was studying the different divisions of Wayne Enterprises to familiarize himself with the empire and was just finishing up with the massive manufacturing division. "I'm moving on to Medical next," he said as our entrees were served. "I think you're coming for a meeting next week, right?" I nodded. "Would you like to go to dinner afterward?"

"Very much," I said smiling. He looked smug, and we chatted about a compact tissue accelerator that was being made.

"Dad will be sending you one," he said absently. Then he put his burger down. "Shit. That was supposed to be a surprise."

"I can still be surprised," I said, smiling. He was cute when he was flustered. We ordered crepes Suzette, flambed tableside, for dessert, then he escorted me to his car, insisting on taking me home. I was kind of surprised to see he was still driving the car he'd had in high school, but he explained that he hadn't driven it much up in Cambridge and he was fond of it. We kissed when he pulled up to the tower, and I got out, resisting the urge to fan myself. Then he jumped out of the car and handed me a long box.

"Almost forgot," he said breathlessly, and I opened it, inhaling spicy carnations, heady light and dark pink roses. That got him another kiss. When I got up to my room, I scrounged a vase and texted a pic to Aslyn and Margaret. Aslyn had been amused when I'd said I was going to start dating Damian, given our history in high school, but she loved the flowers. Margaret said that the pursuit was on. I said I wasn't really running away, and she said that I should make him work for it, but I don't like games like that. She suggested further enticement, but I wasn't sure what turned him on besides oysters.

The next week was kind of brutal, fitting classwork in the schedule. J thought it sounded like great additions to our practice, but reminded me not to let Tony push me around. Easier said than done, when I could see that there would be benefit for the clients. For the meeting, I wore a jade green silk pantsuit--my first big attempt to build a more professional wardrobe for when I wasn't working with clients--that really wasn't warm enough for the winter conditions but was great for dinner. Sure enough, Bruce announced the donation of a compact accelerator to my clinic PLUS a portable one. I didn't have to feign enthusiasm and Bruce's normal reserve thawed a bit. After the meeting, Damian drove us to dinner at Asiate. I loved their soothing decor of espresso wood, white, and a plummy sort of pink. They had a tasting menu that we tried; caviar, big eye tuna sashimi with eggplant, lightly smoked Maine lobster with celtuce, Asian pear, and Thai basil, basted foie gras, Waygu beef prepared two ways with sweet potato, and chocolate dacquiose with hazelnuts and banana ice cream. It came accompanied with wines that were perfect, even for a non-wine drinker like me. I was in a stupor afterward.

"I can't remember a meal I've enjoyed more," I said as I set down my spoon. It was true, too, from the salty pops of flavor from the caviar (I hadn't ever had caviar before, so it was a new experience) to the crispness of the dacquiose, it had been a masterful symphony of tastes and textures. He smiled and trailed his fingers over my hand; I turned my hand under his and his light touch crossed my palm, causing a jolt low in my core.

"I'd like to take you to dinner next," I said, and he agreed promptly, but there was a problem. He was leaving for a business trip, going to China and India. "Two weeks?" I asked in disappointment. His eyes lit.

"Yeah, that was my reaction too," he said. "I leave Saturday afternoon." My face fell.

"Well, are you free tomorrow night?" I had plans with Margaret and Aslyn, and I hated to be that woman who broke plans in favor of a man, but on the other hand, I'd never done it before, so I would probably get a pass. Plus, it was an opportunity to entice.

"For you, I'll make time," he said, his baritone dropping into something really sexy. I said I'd text him instructions, and he caressed my palm with his thumb. He drove me home again, and he presented me with more flowers, this time not forgetting. I opened the box to find pretty spikes of unfamiliar lavender pink flowers, white and green tendrils of ivy, white lilies, and lavender roses. I kissed him goodnight, a proper kiss, long and deep.

"I can't wait for tomorrow," he said, sighing, and for that he got another kiss.

The girls gave me a pass on the evening's festivities and oohed over the flowers. Margaret did an image search and discovered that the spikes of flowers were called mezereon.

"Never heard of it," Aslyn said, and Googled it. Margaret and I waited. She laughed. "What else was in that bouquet?" she asked, and I ran it down.

"In order, desire to please, anxious to please and affection, it's heavenly to be with you, enchantment," she said mysteriously.

"Huh?" I asked blankly.

"What was in the other bouquet?" she asked, ignoring me.

"Um, carnations and light and dark pink roses."

"Fascinatation, thankfulness, and grace and joy."

"Yeah, but what are you talking about?" Margaret asked, as puzzled as I was.

"When I looked up the spiky flowers, one of the links went to this Victorian enthusiast website where they have a list of different flowers and colors and what an ascribed meaning was. Looks like Damian is sending you secret messages," she said, cackling. Naturally, we all had to look. Some of the flowers we'd never heard of and some didn't seem like anything you'd want to find in a vase of flowers, but it was fun, and we amused ourselves coming up with our own bouquets full of meaning.

The next day between classes, I made a reservation at Craft and then an online order. I had to work right up to the moment, so I met Damian at the restaurant. I gave him a quick kiss, then put a creamy white camellia with a rosy heart through his button hole. He looked at me in bemusement as he placed a hand on my back. "Admiration, good luck," I said, touching the white part of a petal. "Longing," I sighed, touching the pink. He took my hand and kissed the palm. The hostess called my name for seating before he could say anything, though.

He held my chair, thoughtful as always, and we ordered salads and aged Rohan duck breast for two before continuing the conversation.

"When did you figure it out?" he asked curiously.

"I didn't," I confessed. "Aslyn did. I wanted to play too," I said, batting my eyelashes at him. He leaned in. "But all the best meanings were attached to flowers not in season or they don't ever carry," I said wryly. It turned out that we were using the same website.

"It sucks that I have to leave," he said. "Damned business."

"About business," I said, playing with the stem of the wineglass. "I wondered if I could ask you a favor."

"Anything," he said promptly. I sent him a wicked look, and he blushed. OMG, so cute. He laughed. "I was looking through the course of study for this stuff," I said. "I'm going to be able to get out of a lot of it, fortunately, the anatomy, physiology, biology, general studies stuff. But they have some business courses, and I honestly don't know that much about running my own business," I said frowning. "I've been relying on Tony and Bruce's people for advice. It's not that I don't trust them, but--"

"It's your business," he said, nodding, taking my hand again. "You'll be bringing your brother in, too, so you want to be sure you have the background to make the right choices according to how you envision the future."

"That's it exactly," I said, only slightly distracted.

"Happy to tutor you," he said promptly. "Might as well put my Ivy League education to practical use." He grinned. "And payment is convenient and on the installment plan."

"Really?" I asked, trying for a sultry look. Must have worked, it took a moment for him to get his head back in the game.

"Kisses," he said huskily.

"You might be selling your tutoring sessions a little too low," I said. "I'm a former tutor, I know the value of one on one instruction." I brushed the back of my foot along his ankle, careful not to spike him with the heel of my pump.

He looked dazed, and just then the server showed up with dinner. It was delicious, but I decided right then not to order the same thing anymore. It was more fun to give each other tastes off our forks. For dessert, we had hot cider spiked with calvados and orange and frozen vanilla mousse. I behaved myself til the last bite, licking the thick white creaminess off the spoon seductively. His eyes almost crossed.

After that, we went dancing for a few hours and we left the club. "Want to come for a nightcap?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb.

"That better be some very fine booze," I murmured.

He burst out laughing. "I meant, 'would you like to come up for a nightcap?'" he said. "Freudian slip."

"Sure," I said, happy to extend the evening. I was surprised when he pulled up to the St Regis, though. He offered me his arm as he came around the car and the valets claimed it. "I wanted some space from Dad," he said, shrugging. "The company owns the hotel, so it wasn't hard to make arrangements."

"Handy, that," I said, amused. He grinned and pressed the button for the floor selection in the elevator. He unlocked the door and held it for me. I looked around in wonder at the Imperial Suite, with its elegant red paneled walls and window seats below the bulls-eye windows that overlooked Central Park, Fifth Avenue, and 55th Street. I drank some of the cognac he offered, then put down the snifter and reached for him.

"He wouldn't sleep with me," I reported the next day, still a little cross. "Said he'd rather wait til he got back so there wouldn't be a two week gap."

Aslyn and Margaret laughed. "So what did you do instead?" Margaret asked.

"Made out," I said, sighing. "Not that that was terrible. At all. There's this amazingly fluffy, soft duvet on the bed, and we rolled around on it. Not a stitch came off, unfortunately. But to be honest, it was still a really good time."

"Dry humping," Aslyn diagnosed.

"No comment," I said primly, and listened to the explosion of laughter. They had dates that night, so I told them to have fun and hung up. I was settling down to study when the front desk called and said I had a delivery. Mystified, I went down. I hadn't ordered anything. When I went to the desk, there was a bouquet of yellow lilies. The card read "First meaning--D" . I'd have to look it up. There was also a bag that contained a small bottle of absinthe. Huh. I took my bounty and went upstairs. The first meaning for that color lily was 'I'm walking on air." I grinned and texted him thanks for the flowers and the absinthe, adding 'trying 2 get me drunk? works better when ur here." I found a picture of a wax plant; it was pretty, tiny waxy flowers forming hemispheres. I sent him that with the identification so he'd know that I meant to send 'susceptible."

I was powering through my studies, it was more straightforward than what I'd studied in college but I suspected practice would be the key here, when my phone blipped to indicate a text. There was a pretty picture of an herb and the caption 'wormwood.' I looked it up; it meant absence, do not be discouraged. I smiled. Then another text. "Long flights suck. Can't wait 2 be back with u."

'By then should need volunteer for massage study. Anybody?"

He texted me a thumbs up, and I went back to studying with a smile. Periodically we'd text; his trip was going well and I was busy. The classes soon had us practicing on each other as we learned bits and pieces. Most people used too much oil, which was gross and drippy. Colonel Rhodes decided in favor of the nanotech treatment, and Tony got him the next available appointment. He couldn't go himself, so one of the doctors got an all expenses paid trip to Seoul to accompany the colonel and report to Tony. Probably every five minutes. I didn't envy him. Damian had texted, suggesting some reading material for small business owners; we'd discuss when he got back.

I was seeing a moderate uptick in my enhanced clients; word was getting around and I finally needed a receptionist. Tony sent Doug down; he was enthusiastic and had the sunniest personality. He was also trained as a nurses assistant, so he was comfortable assisting clients if they needed wheelchairs or other basic personal assistance. And there were a few who did, either untreated injuries or lack of effective PT after an injury. It really felt good to help people and get some insight into different mutations and how they affected people. Hank was starting to send in some new genetic analyses, so I was really busy. Not so busy not to be disappointed when Damian said in a phone call that he'd be late getting back.

"How late?"

"Two weeks," he sighed. We were both disappointed, but there was nothing to do about it. He sent me a low vase like a cream ceramic donut with feet and a trench cut in the top, filled with fragrant purple violets--'you occupy my thoughts.' I sent a photo of different color zinnias--'thinking of an absent friend.'

'Just friend?' he texted back.

I sent a picture of beautiful tulips. 'First meaning.'

'Perfect lover?'

'Girl can hope.'

Red poppies. 'Pleasure.'

I smiled and went back to work.


	5. Longest week

At the start of the next week Damian had a cactus delivered. I looked at it in dismay, then looked it up on my phone right there at the desk. The definition made me laugh--endurance. I didn't particularly like cactus, so I put it on the reception desk downstairs. Fortunately, Doug liked it. I sent a picture of wallflowers, 'faithfulness in adversity.'

Aside from that bit of lightness, the week was pretty grim. At the end of the week, I dragged myself up to Tony's office. "Tony, I'm having to rethink things. I know you want an acupuncturist to see to Colonel Rhodes, so you should think about hiring somebody. I'm going to finish out the massage course, but I really don't think that I can handle a course of study that takes as long as the acupuncture course. Massage is an associates degree, acupuncture is a masters. My schedule isn't sustainable over the long term. I've been working eighteen hour days."

"I can work around the clock," he grumped.

"Until you crash, then you're down for at least a day, usually two or three. I don't have that luxury. I have clients who need me to be reliable, and I'm a one-woman operation."

His face, which had been tight--Tony doesn't take well to having his plans upset--eased as he really looked at me. The concealer I used wasn't doing a very good job with the black under eye circles. "So hire more staff."

I actually tried, but I couldn't suppress the eye roll. "Tony, I can't afford to pay my salary consistently."

"Jesus, Alex, don't be so stubborn. You need more money, ask."

"It's my business, and I'm not willing to make it a subsidiary of Stark Tech."

From there we got into a yelling match. I was too tired to be tactful or handle him the way I usually did, and nobody really yelled at Tony. Emma didn't have to anymore, and she was the only other person who had on a regular basis. I stomped out before I could say anything I'd regret, then had to text J that I might have put our business in jeopardy.

J: Don't worry. Proud of you for standing up for yourself. If Stark gets too demanding, we'll figure out another way.

I was so tired that I was more emotional than usual and fortunately had a brief respite where I could get myself under control and fix my makeup. I hate to feel this stretched; I feel like I don't have resources to deal with anything properly, and the hated stress crying tends to pop up. I'd never been able to figure out how to quit that. I also wanted a hug, so I went in search of my uncle. I was a little horrified to realize that what I really wanted was a hug from Damian.

I squashed that down and got an Uncle Bucky flannel special hug instead. Then he sat me down and listened to what I had to say. "Listen, sweetie, I've never run a business, but I think you need to consult somebody. Rethink your business plan; thing have a way of going haywire when Stark gets involved, because if you deviate too far you're going to be in trouble. He has enough resources so that whenever he gets a wild hare, he can afford to implement it. You don't have those resources, so either you need to retrench or you'll risk somebody actually owning your business." He continued to give me good advice about separating out work and personal life. "You and Stark are similar in that you both work hard and play hard, and it's the play time that makes life really worth living. He'll figure that out when he calms down. But again, it's a question of resources. He has a multi-billion dollar empire and hordes of employees. You have yourself, really, Doug's on loan, isn't he?" I nodded. "You need to restrict your work hours. I know you don't want to turn people away, but if you burn out, what's going to happen over the long term?" He took me off teaching for a week in order to give me some more time to figure things out and said sternly that it would be more if I needed it. I was afraid that he'd also cancel our lessons--I needed to work out hard, otherwise I got really antsy--but we both agreed that wasn't negotiable. I stayed at work until six, then put out the sign directing after hours clients upstairs for emergency care at the clinic. I went upstairs and took a nap.

I was going to cancel plans with Margaret and Aslyn, but I also needed to vent and have some fun. They listened sympathetically and we changed our plans from dancing to talking over cocktails at a cozy booth in our favorite speakeasy. I probably wouldn't last the whole night, so they could still go dancing. And that's what happened; even with non-alcoholic drinks and a nap, I went home at eleven, feeling much better for the conversation.

I was woken up at around two by a call from Aslyn. They'd called it a night at around one and shared a cab home, as Margaret was more or less on the way to Aslyn's. They couldn't approach the building because it was going up like a torch, so Margaret was going to stay at Aslyn's for the time being. We agreed to meet for brunch later, and I went back to sleep. When I showed up for brunch, I had a tote with some clothes--we were all about the same size--and another bag with toiletries in brands I knew she liked. She burst into tears--they'd gone by the building on the way to brunch and the building was just a shell. The news was reporting another strike by the S'mores arsonist. All her things were gone, and although she had renter's insurance, it never seemed to pay for the real cost of replacement. Fortunately she'd been wearing her diamond earrings and her other most prized possession, her diploma from MIT, was framed and in her work office. Her tears set off Aslyn and me, we were sympathetic criers.

After Margaret calmed down some and we all mopped up and refreshed our makeup in the bathroom, she changed the subject to tease me about Damian. "When does he get back?" she asked.

"Thursday or Friday," I said, holding up crossed fingers.

"So we shouldn't plan on seeing you Friday night?" Aslyn asked slyly. Friday night was our night together, date nights were Saturday.

"Depends on how jet-lagged he is," I said, then made a face. "I'm sorry, guys. I don't want to blow you off, but--"

"You'd rather be blowing Damian," Margaret said saucily, and we burst out laughing.

"I am rather desperate to get him where I want him," I acknowledged.

"And where's that?" Aslyn asked archly, sipping at her mimosa.

"Well, between my legs for starters, then I need to have him teach me how to run a business. I asked before he left, and he agreed. To the teaching part," I said, smirking, "but I bet he'll be on board with the bed part too." That got everybody laughing.

"You have his elite education to tap, but he's also got practical experience," Aslyn pointed out. "Bruce Wayne's been grooming him for the business forever, and while a business empire isn't the same as a fledgling small business, I have no doubt that he'll be a good teacher." She shook her head. "I still can't get over it. He was such a punk in high school."

"People change, thank heaven," I shrugged.

"Does he know about the whole...Joker thing?" Margaret whispered. I nodded.

"He knows the basics of what happened," I said quietly. "I told him, back in high school. Just yelled it at him, really," I sighed. "I thought for sure that that bridge was burned."

"You didn't seem to know he was going to Harvard," Aslyn said, and I nodded.

"We weren't talking when the regular acceptances came out."

"He seemed to try awfully hard to repair that bridge," Aslyn said, smiling. "Once in the coffeehouse, I saw him really exerting himself to be charming, doing a pretty good job of it too, but he was actually sweating when he left."

"Do tell," Margaret said, fascinated.

She didn't have much more to say, but that made me review my past a little and make some notes. I didn't really want to bring that incident up again with him, but at some point I'd ask him about how he felt in college. My phone chimed, and I got a picture of lavender heather, signifying admiration. I sent him a picture of stock, meaning bonds of affection. I had the website bookmarked. The girls teased me about the little game, but they were charmed by it too. "Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a flower for 'get your ass back here,'" Aslyn said absently. She looked up and grinned. "Think he'll be kinky enough for you?" she asked, and I flushed.

"Only one way to find out,"I said, and they laughed.

"I think kink can be traded off if the sex is otherwise really good," Margaret said, and we looked at her with interest. It was her turn to blush, and she came clean about how she was getting more interested in a guy she'd been seeing casually. "He's as vanilla as it gets, but he can go for hours, he's enthusiastic and attentive, and his cock is huge." She reflected on this for a moment with some smugness.

"You're such a size queen," Aslyn teased her, and by the time we left, Margaret was cheered up and as back to level as you could reasonably expect.

I went back to the tower and went to work. Mid-afternoon, I got a call from Damian and happily suspended the paperwork I was doing. We got the business part of the phone call out of the way, in which I asked about his trip and he offered to help me with my mess, exchanging news like the arson, then we got into the slightly gooey talk that you get at (hopefully) the beginning of a relationship. "I haven't been able to find a flower for 'missing you,'" I said wistfully.

He made a pleased humming sound. "I get back after midnight on Thursday night, actually," he said. "I'm going to meet with dad in the morning to go over the trip, clear up the details, but there shouldn't be much, I've kept him posted through the whole thing, then I'm going to get some sleep. I can't wait to see you. Will you have dinner with me Friday night?"

"I'd love to," I said, and he invited me for dinner at the hotel. "Does this mean that you'll finally take me to bed after?" I purred, and he groaned.

"Don't talk like that," he begged. "I'll be hard for an hour."

"Only an hour?" I teased, and we ended up having a satisfyingly adult conversation that mixed pertinent information along with a lot of teasing. I couldn't wait for Friday.

Of course, the week dragged. I could have sworn there was two minutes' time in each elapsed minute, but I kept my head down and plowed through the the boring parts. Working out with my uncle and helping the clients were the bright spots, and finally, grudgingly, Friday got here.

I clocked out exactly at five, taking a few minutes to greet the nurse who'd be manning the clinic that evening, and bolted upstairs. I had to decide on the dress and settle the question of lingerie or no while I was in the shower. (Yes, the sexiest set I had that made my boobs look spectacular. First impressions, after all.) I curled big waves into my hair and put it up in a knot that was held with only a couple of pins that could be removed easily for a sexy tumble of hair. Minimal makeup, using the waterproof mascara that I didn't like because it wasn't easy to get off. But raccoon eyes aren't terribly sexy. Stockings and high heels, naturally. I put on a crimson knit dress with a flared skirt; body hugging and hot without trying too hard. I grabbed my clutch and ran downstairs, skidding to a halt outside when I saw Damian and his car waiting for me. There was heat in his eyes and a huskiness to his voice as he gave me a light kiss and held the door to the car for me.

We did the sensible thing and had dinner first, although I couldn't tell you what we ate, except that there were no oysters this time. Then the elevator, where we had to be casual since we weren't the only occupants. Restraint was abandoned the second the lock clicked open and a handy section of unadorned wall presented itself and a condom could be hastily rolled on. This had an unfortunately early end, though, and Damian set me down carefully, embarrassed. I stooped to pick up the empty condom wrapper and we went into the living room. I dropped the packet in the trash and went around drawing the draperies before returning to him and snuggling up. He put his arms around me and sighed.

"That was not what I had planned," he said regretfully, and I shrugged.

"It's kind of flattering to know that I can make you lose control," I said.

"I never flatter you," he said, stroking my back. "That implies insincerity and dishonestly. I always tell you exactly what I feel." I looked up, startled, and he leaned down for a kiss. "Well, since we've got some time, do you want to dance?" he offered, and stepped away to pull up a playlist. All different kinds, the only commonality that the songs had was that they were great for slow dancing to. And kissing to. He excused himself and I took the opportunity to visit the bathroom. When I came out, he drew me into the bedroom, where he'd lit a Yankee Candle stores'-worth of candles, all safely in candle holders of one type or another. The air was sweet with the perfume from bouquets scattered around the room, the bed stripped to the bottom sheet. I smiled and unpinned my hair. Like a gentleman, he helped me with my dress, although unfortunately the zipper got a little ripped. I peeled off the lingerie myself. The second encounter was much longer and satisfying.

When I woke up, it was about three in the morning and the candles were mostly burned out, although the tall pillars guttered in their wax. I stretched. This was when I usually left, but for the first time, I just turned over and cuddled in. Damian mumbled something, and I went back to sleep.

I woke up around eight, feeling like the world was my oyster, but the bed was empty. I could hear rustling somewhere in the suite, so I was unconcerned and went to the bathroom. You never knew if somebody was going to be weird about the toothbrush issue, which always seemed dumb to me after sharing body fluids, but some people just don't like to share. It's easier to ask forgiveness than ask permission, anyway. After I was done, I went in search of Damian with an offer to conserve water and shower together. I found him in the living room, draperies open. The light was gray from the snowstorm that was tossing flurries against the window, but it was plenty bright enough to admire his muscular body. He looked up and smiled, holding out a hand for me. I stepped up to him and pressed myself against him for a kiss.

"I brought you something from a stop in Japan," he said. "I was there for a day and this reminded me of you." He handed me a box, and I pulled off the ribbon, giving him a sly smile and taking a moment to tie it around his penis with a bow. He laughed, but his concentration was on me. There was a blue oval case, which contained, it turned out, a double strand of exquisite white pearls and matching earrings sat in the center of the case. I was literally speechless. I couldn't speak, not a squeak. He started to look anxious.

"It's so beautiful," I managed to say, and started to tear up. I'd never gotten jewelry from a man before, let alone something like this, and wasn't sure of the protocol. I thought a kiss was in order while I tried to find my words. He took the case from me and gently settled the necklace around my neck.

"It looks perfect on you," he said, smiling a little. "Just as I pictured." I ran my fingers along the cool smooth pearls. "And don't say that I shouldn't have, or that it's too much," he said as I opened my mouth. "I wanted to give you something as beautiful as you are."

"Thank you," I whispered, and the passion flamed again. He drew me down to one of the sofas and I hastily took off the bow. I laughed a little when we accidentally rolled onto the floor, but I could afford to, I was on top. He grinned and rolled so that I was on the bottom, and I sighed in pleasure when he entered me. My focus was completely on Damian and the two of us together.

So completely, in fact, that I totally missed the lock clicking and the door opening, until a deep voice said, "Damian, where are you?"

Damian started violently and his head popped up. "Dad! Jesus, what are you doing here?"

There was an appalled silence all around. "Interrupting, apparently," Bruce said, retreating rapidly. "I came by for the contracts. You weren't answering the phone, so I thought I'd just retrieve them..."

"Shit, Dad, I'll meet you downstairs," Damian said, flustered. I was flustered too, but I couldn't go anywhere with Damian between my legs, pinning me to the floor. And he provided cover, anyway.

"We'll have breakfast," Bruce said. "Bring Alex." I flushed red. Neither of us so much as twitched until we heard the door close.

"I moved out precisely to prevent this kind of thing," Damian growled. "Damn it!"

I started to laugh. "Come on," I encouraged, "that's a mighty fine erection you're boasting. It would be a shame to waste it. Your dad can wait a bit." We were a little hastier than I was hoping for when we started, but awesome nevertheless, and after a quick shower, he found a black pair of track pants that weren't actually horribly long and a dress shirt from the back of the closet that was too small for him. I had to wear my pumps from the night before, but the pants were long enough to cover them. My improvised ensemble actually looked pretty good.

"You look good in my shirt," he said, playing with the button between my breasts as I rolled up the sleeves, then capturing my hands when I tried to take off the necklace. "Let's go fuel up, I'll give Dad the damned paperwork to get rid of him, then we can come back up and I'll take it off. If I have to, I will put a chair under the door," he promised, and I chortled and let him pull me toward the door.


	6. Making plans

I was glad that Damian had his hand at my waist rather than holding my hand as we walked toward his father, because my hands began to sweat nervously. Bruce was sipping coffee and reading the paper, looking up and standing as we approached his table by the fireplace in Astor Court. The corner of his mouth curled up slightly as Damian seated me across from his dad and sat by my side. Inconspicuously, I pressed my palms to my pants to dry them off, glad my hair was up so I couldn't fiddle with it, as Damian passed a leather folio over to his father, who rifled through the pages inside as the server came up with coffee and juice for me, grapefruit juice for Damian. My juice turned out to be a delicious blend of tangy apple juice, ginger, and mint.

Bruce cleared his throat and we looked at him over the tops of our brunch menus. "I apologize for barging in this morning. I thought Damian would be out and about. I failed to consider other... enticements." I flushed and Damian rolled his eyes.

"Dad, privacy," Damian said sternly. "This kind of thing is just why I moved out." My phone rang and I looked at it inconspicuously. It was J; I'd call him back after breakfast. I listened as Bruce and Damian bantered about why even dads should always knock, smiling slightly, as J called back. I frowned; he always just left a message.

"Excuse me," I murmured, and both men hushed. "It's my brother, he never keeps calling." Both men rose as I left the table. I called J back, he was in an uncharacteristic frenzy, having gotten a D on a test. I recognized that he was furious with himself and worried what the grade meant for him in the hyper-competitive medical program and for our business. "Listen, J, it's not actually the end of the world," I said firmly. "No matter what, we'll find a way to work things out. It's one grade. If you decide that you don't actually want to be a doctor, maybe you could be a psychologist rather than a psychiatrist, or maybe you'd like to do something else. There are ups and downs all along the road." I was clinging to this because owning a business is hard work, and I wasn't sure I was up to it. The call turned into a mutual pep talk as we pumped each other up.

"So what was I interrupting?" J asked.

"I'm at brunch with the guy I'm interested in. And his dad. Not long after his dad walked in on us having sex." There was dead silence for a second as J processed this, then he absolutely roared with laughter.

"Glad I could make your day," I said sourly, although I was smiling.

"You always have the best stories," he said fondly. "So who is the guy? Why is he still living at home?"

"He's not living at home. It's Damian," I said after a slight hesitation.

"Well, I know you've thought about the implications, so all I'm going to say is that maybe next time you should drape a tie over the doorknob," he said, starting to laugh again. I hung up, smiling, and walked back to the table.

I heard their voices just before I rounded the corner; they weren't speaking loudly, but the restaurant wasn't crowded right now. They were talking about the pearls. I was sure Bruce would also think that they were way too extravagant for a woman his son had just started to sleep with.

"You should have given her your grandmother's pearls," Bruce said critically.

"No, Dad, geeze. One, you said you got rid of them. Second, you don't try to give family heirlooms to a woman you're still trying hard to coax into a relationship unless you want to scare her off. Third, your mom was killed for those pearls, so it's really not an experience I'm looking to relive."

"I didn't actually get rid of them," his father muttered. "They're in the safe. I just never had them restrung. But they're natural pearls. These others have to be cultured. They are beautiful, though," Bruce conceded.

"They're Mikimotos, they're not some cheap strand I bought at a bottom-rung jeweler," Damian said impatiently. "It was hard enough to get her to accept them. If I'd have shown up with a priceless strand of pearls, she probably would have bolted out the door."

"Look, son, I know how much you want a relationship with Alex. But go slow. You've got a substantial past to overcome. That's got to have affected her," Bruce said compassionately.

"I am going slow," Damian said through gritted teeth. Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping by the staff, I retreated a ways and marched back, making sure my heels clicked resoundingly on the hard floor. Both men rose as I came back to the table.

"Everything ok?" Damian asked, brushing his lips over my hair.

"He got a D on a test and freaked out," I sighed.

"Is it a serious problem? What if he decides not to finish medical school?" Bruce asked.

I shrugged. "I want whatever will make him happy. We'd figure things out." I laughed. "Maybe I should have asked him if he wanted to study acupuncture." Damian smiled and took my hand. Bruce looked mystified. "I told Tony I wasn't going to do the acupuncture coursework," I told him.

Bruce snorted. "That's good. I think you're stretching yourself too thin as it is. Bet that didn't go over well."

"There was shouting," I conceded regretfully. "Tony doesn't like to be balked."

"No," Bruce agreed. "But give him some time to readjust his thinking. And I understand Damian's helping you reassess the business."

I rubbed my head, my good mood leaking away. "I feel like it's gotten away from me," I confessed. "I think I didn't do enough planning, I was overconfident in my abilities."

"I thought your business plan was decent," Bruce said. "And you've been getting good advice from my people and Stark's. But I have every confidence that Damian will be able to figure things out, show you where the weak spots are, help you decide what to do about them. Business is messier than I think you were expecting, Alex. It's not always linear and there are a lot of outside factors that have to be considered as well." Damian squeezed my hand. Then Bruce changed the subject, to my relief, and the server came for our orders.

"You should get the Titanic omelette," Damian said, poking me.

"It has seven eggs, I'd never be able to eat it all," I said, swatting at his hand. Plus it was $125, with Maine lobster, lump crab, and caviar. I had a variation on eggs Benedict with crab cakes and asparagus and split a side of fruit and berries with Damian, who had an odd offering of one egg Benedict, silver dollar pancakes, sausage, and bacon.

"Gotta keep up my strength," he said cheerfully, offering me a crisp piece of bacon. I gave him a taste of the crab cake. Damian told us amusing stories from his trip--nothing too businessy-- as we ate. At the conclusion, Bruce shooed us off, and we escaped back upstairs. This time Damian shot the deadbolt--which would need a physical key from downstairs to override--before we attacked each other. He talked dirty, which turned me on, and he showed that he could be excitingly creative too. After we rested a bit, he handed me a hotel robe and we went down the hall of the suite to the dining room table, which he was using as a desk currently.

"So how did you come up with the business plan?" he asked, seating me and kissing my neck before sitting beside me. I explained that I'd followed instructions from a book.

"Yeah, it's pretty basic," he agreed. "We can do better, though." We spent the afternoon clarifying my goals and working up a hugely better plan, and he explained a lot more to me, such as how to handle the finances better and other things I had no idea even existed. The few things I was doing well--the taxes, for one--he made sure to praise so that I didn't get too depressed. He typed notes into his laptop as we worked so that I'd have the record although he stressed I should call him with questions. By the end of the lesson, I was dazed with information overload and a damned good idea how unprepared I'd been.

"I cannot thank you enough," I said sincerely as he emailed me the notes and shut down the computer. He smiled at me and cupped my cheek.

"It makes me happy to see you like this."

"Like what?" I furrowed my brow.

"Interested, engaged, energetic, ready to take on the world. You've been dragging, looking down."

"It means a lot to me that you'd take the time to help me when I'm sure that there are other things you could be doing."

"I needed a break," he said pointedly, and I chortled. "But I like analyzing business problems, and this was pretty easy to see where you were faltering. I don't want to take over, even if you'd let me, but I want to help."

I fidgeted, then decided to come clean. "When I was coming back from the call with J, I heard you talking about the pearls."

His eyes sharpened. "What did you hear?"

"I thought Bruce would take my side, that it was too much for a gift. When he said that you should have given me your grandmother's pearls," I struggled to say it, still kind of aghast at the thought. Talk about too extravagant!

"Ah," he nodded. "And you heard my reasons why." I nodded. "But even if I'd known he still had them, I wouldn't have given them to you, primarily because she died from wearing them, that's not something I want you to dwell on, but also because I wanted to give you something just from me. Do you know why I gave you pearls?" I shook my head. "Oysters." He grinned. "They come from oysters. The sight of you eating oysters is burned into my brain, so I thought to give you a memory too." He nuzzled me. "We should get room service tonight and have oysters."

"It's still too much," I murmured, shifting to face him. "It's not like I can wear them to work." I kissed him gently. "Well, maybe the earrings." He pulled me onto his lap and I moved so that I was straddling him, and we kissed.

"There's some sort of fundraiser at the end of the month," he murmured. "Will you go with me? And will you wear that blue dress you wore New Years Eve?"

"I can wear the pearls then," I sighed as he loosened the sash of the robe and folded it back.

"I hope so," he said distractedly, and I helped him with the sash on his robe. Just as I slid him inside, he said, "Will you be exclusive with me? I know we haven't been seeing each other for very long, but there's no one else I want." His blue eyes were hypnotic.

"I want that too," I said breathlessly, and started to move. His arms tightened around me and I could barely move, just rocking; we kissed passionately and I felt both filled and enveloped by him. 

Afterward, we went to the living room and curled up in one of the window seats, watching the gathering dusk, not talking much, just being together, punctuated by outbreaks of kissing now and then. He made me dinner in the kitchen, after which I insisted on cleaning up. Then we cuddled on the sofa and he sighed.

"We never really talked about what happened in high school. I don't know if you want to, but if you do, I'm here."

"Maybe we should discuss it," I said slowly. "Get it out of the way. But it's not pleasant, as I think you know."

"I know mostly what you told me," he said quietly. "The detective said he was stunned how much damage you did to the Joker, but he never knew how the paralyzing agent wore off so fast."

I considered, remembering what I'd hissed at him on the sidewalk that summer, sitting up and turning to face him. "Well, I hit all the pertinent parts in what I told you." I didn't think about that time very much anymore; it was still disgusting, but at least the terror had worn off. "I had appointments with a rape counselor three times a week for a little over a month, then twice a week for awhile, but by the time I went to college, I was down to one a week, and I wasn't shoving a chair under the doorknob at night. Every now and then I had to go back as things resurfaced and I needed to face them, but I haven't had any flashbacks or anything since early in grad school. As for the toxin... for high school graduation, I got a pendant from Sif and Thor and Loki that helps me concentrate. I don't like to take it off much."

"That one with the pretty stone?" I nodded.

"I thought it would be helpful for studying to be able to concentrate more, but I found out that night that when I concentrated, I got better at whatever I was concentrating on. That night, concentrating meant that my body was able to clear the toxin faster, since that was what I was concentrating on. The lab accident didn't give me an accelerated healing ability, but in some ways that's kind of what the pendant provides. The tissue accelerator is a lot easier to use and faster, too, so that's usually what I rely on."

His deep voice was soothing. "How else did it affect you?'

"I never trusted a guy enough to talk about the rape before," I said, with a little smile I didn't feel. "It's disgusting and distressing, and the details are frankly unbelievable. Who's going to believe I got away from the Joker? I had a couple of boyfriends in college, briefly. I told the first one I'd been raped when he wanted to know why I wouldn't spend the night or let him tie me up. I didn't give him details, but he didn't handle it well, and we broke up shortly after. The second one...well, I just didn't trust him enough. I've never actually stayed the whole night with a man until last night."

After a minute, he said, "If I could go back, I would do everything differently. I would have insisted that one of the other guys escort you at the party. The Joker didn't care about any of them. But I would give anything and everything I have to go back and not leave you alone. I honestly thought it was in your best interest not to be seen with me, so nobody could link you with me. I never thought how you'd feel, I thought you'd see it the same way I did. You saved me, twice, and I couldn't do anything right."

"Is this, right now, I don't know, compensation?" I asked.

"No. I actually thought that keeping my distance was the best thing I could do for you in college, but honestly, I didn't want to. I've always liked you, even at the beginning when I was such an ass." I had to smile for real at that.

"You were so pretty," I said wistfully. "If you'd just kept your mouth shut..."

"Well, I had that big secret to protect," he shrugged. He put his hand out where I could take it if I wanted. "So being a spoiled rich kid repelled most people. You were a really good sport." I put my hand in his. "Then, I've got to admit, I was a little embarrassed that you were a better fighter than I was, so I wanted to keep things just friendly. I'm pretty good, but you could have whipped my ass if you chose. The teenage male ego is a fragile thing," he said. "And I deserved you rejecting me after high school. When I saw you in college, you always seemed to have guys chasing after you, so it hurt, but I thought it was penance. When you took that job at the coffee shop... I've got a confession to make. I'm not actually a big coffee drinker." I stared at him, surprised, then burst out laughing. He came in almost every shift for a mocha. "I just liked talking to you again."

I rolled that around in my head for a bit. "Did you have girlfriends in college?"

"A few, but they didn't last. They weren't gold diggers, but the litmus test was always 'can I tell her about what's in that cave?' and I never felt like I could. I introduced one to my dad, and she could barely speak."

"Your dad can be intimidating," I said, feeling sympathy for whatever woman he'd introduced to Bruce.

"I don't notice you being overawed," he said, lacing our fingers and smiling.

"I had to work at it. But finding out about that cave... kind of made him more accessible."

He snorted. "I don't think you're awed by him at all."

I grinned. "I'm not, actually, but I do have a healthy respect for him."

"So it was respect that had you demanding that we finish making love and shower before brunch?" His eyes twinkled.

"Well, he walked in on us, and we were in the middle of something wonderful, so finishing was payback. The shower was a matter of courtesy," I argued. "It wouldn't have been respectful to show up reeking of sex, all disheveled." He howled with laughter.

"So tell me one more thing," I said. "Why did you choose Harvard? I"m sure you got into other schools as well."

"I did," he nodded. "I went to Harvard because I knew Aslyn was going there and MIT was close. You'd keep up your friendship."

I reached out and touched his lips. "In case I didn't say it, I've forgiven you for keeping me at arms' length that time," I said softly.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because that was a pretty massive fuckup."

"It was a mistake," I affirmed. "But it was just that. A mistake." I sighed. "Even if we'd have been friends still, I don't think it would have changed anything. I wouldn't have been able to call or anything. I had a tracker that I glued to my watch back that could be triggered if I went missing, but I called the police before anybody noticed I was gone. I was freaked out and blamed it all on you, which wasn't fair." I rubbed my hand over my watch. "Tony made this watch as a replacement for me. If I pull out the stem, an emergency notification immediately goes to whatever phone numbers I've selected."

"Is that why you never take it off? It's really nice," he said, looking at it more closely.

I nodded. "It's a habit now, kind of like a security blanket."

"Will you add my number?" he asked tentatively.

"I'll have to drag out the manual, but yes," I replied.

After that, there didn't seem to be much to say. I stood up and stretched, letting the robe fall off my body. "I think I'll take a bath," I said, then walked to the bathroom, adding a little extra sway to my hips. He caught up with me before I made it to the door, let alone start filling the tub.

I stayed the night; we had brunch again downstairs, and tea in the late afternoon, after which he took me home. I had things to do before going to work the next day, starting with adjusting my schedule to better serve my clients and keep myself from burning out. That meant starting later in the morning and going later at night. Since a large portion of my clients were street heroes, that would mean they didn't have try to fit their appointments in around their day jobs as much. Ideally, down the road I'd be able to get a second physical therapist to supplement me, and we could have even later hours all week long. And I needed some time alone to process what had happened this weekend. It represented a huge change for me emotionally.

"Frankly," I said to Aslyn and Margaret on the phone, "my body also needs a break. I've never had so much sex in so short a time before." They laughed and made a few jokes.

"So everything's been worked out?" Aslyn asked.

"Yeah, we talked about it all. I warned him that I might have issues crop up, because I've never been in a relationship like this. Who knows what that might shake loose? I just didn't want him to freak out."

"That was a good idea," Margaret approved. "I can't wait to see these pearls." I'd only told them that Damian had given me a necklace and matching earrings, completely leaving out what I'd heard while eavesdropping.

"You guys will freak," I said confidently and I got caught up on their weekends too. Then I did my work and made an early night of it after remembering to dig out the watch's guide out and adding Damian's number. I slept soundly until the alarm the next morning.


	7. Valentine's Day

I bounced downstairs the next morning feeling well-rested and sleek, and was able to discuss the changes I wanted to make regarding the hours with Doug as, once again, we didn't have the first slot of the morning filled. He was enthusiastic, confiding that he wasn't really a morning person and that it would be nicer to have some extra time to sleep in. He immediately set about making a sign for the door announcing the new hours and calling the few clients we had in the early slots to see about switching them to later spots. While he did that, I hunted up my uncle to see if perhaps we could schedule our workouts earlier, telling him about the changes to my hours.

Bucky listened carefully and nodded. It would be easy enough to switch our times, and I would also be able to pick up training with Sif again. We went upstairs to the caf to get some breakfast and he grinned when we sat down. "So, when do I get to meet your young man? I came by your room a couple of times this weekend but you were never in." My face went red and I choked on my orange juice. His eyes were twinkling.

"Actually, you've already met him," I said, patting my lips with my napkin. "It's Damian." Bucky's eyebrows arched as he thought about it.

"So you've ironed out all your differences?" I nodded. "Well, I can't say that I really met the kid, he was always unconscious when I came out to pick you up. I'd like to actually meet him. I don't think Emma's seen him for quite awhile. See if he can come to dinner this week."

Obediently, I texted Damian, and it was arranged that he'd pick me up Wednesday night and we'd have dinner at Bucky and Emma's. On the way back downstairs after breakfast, the AI told me that I had a delivery. Damian had sent me two dozen roses, red, white, all shades of pink, and lavender. Bucky carried the enormous vase downstairs for me and after he left, I pulled up the website, but it had been taken down and the domain name was for sale. Immediately I texted Damian, thanking him for the flowers (so extravagant!) and telling him that the website was down. There were other ones, but we'd have to agree on one. He called back immediately and said that red was for passion, white for charm, pink in general was perfect happiness, pale pink was for grace, dark pink thankfulness, and lavender enchantment. Then there was some mushy stuff, during which I said that I couldn't wait for Wednesday, and he invited me over after dinner. Wednesday was probably going to be the best day of the week.

Tuesday, Tony came down with an implied apology for our blowup the week before and asked about the changes to the hours. He nodded when I explained, and said he'd done some thinking. I braced myself for incoming.

"Rhodey's problems got me to thinking. A lot of us Avengers are aging, and it's not as easy to hop out of bed the next morning after an action as it used to be. I know you've said that mutated tissue is often difficult to rehabilitate, but not all of us are enhanced. I'm not, Rhodey currently isn't, the Hawkeyes aren't, Sam isn't." He sighed. "I've been planning a reorganization of the company, moving the bio and chem, all of the labs in the tower except for my lab out to the Avengers complex, give all the lab rats room to roam, more importantly, getting the most volatile aspects out of the tower. I'm getting itchy; the Kree and Skrulls have left us alone for too long. The company servers are out in the sticks, so it won't be crippling even if the tower is hit, but I'm consolidating my IT department and the rest here. Spent some time at Google the last time I was out in Seattle and I have a mind to offer more perks to employees so the space that's left over after everybody gets changed around won't be wasted.

"I'm getting to your part in this." I hadn't even opened my mouth, so I just waited with an attentive look on my face. "Part of the perks I'll be offering to my employees will be massage therapists, nap pods, things like that. So the Avengers can take advantage of the massage therapists, but they won't be used to working with enhanced people. So I propose that you finish the course, fees and tuition paid by me as we agreed, and then I want to offer you a contract. You'd be focusing only on the enhanced people we have and you'd provide a certain number of slots each week for Avengers exclusively."

"What if more people want massages than I have those dedicated slots?" We discussed some possible solutions, and I asked for time to consider, given that I'd improved my business plan. Tony was interested and asked to see it.

"This is a lot better," he said finally. "It's more cohesive and targeted. I think there's room for my proposal but take a few days to think about it and consult with your advisor. Who are you seeing, anyway?"

"Damian Wayne," I said mildly. He rolled his eyes, but finally said that Damian did good work. I kept my smile placid, but I was laughing inside. He hated to compliment his rivals.

"Nice flowers," he commented. I sniffed one happily, I kept them within nose range.

"They're from my boyfriend," I said absently.

"And who is this new boyfriend?" he asked archly.

"Damian Wayne," I said. Tony looked like he was choking back a lot of things he could say. "I appreciate your restraint," I said honestly.

"But he's a Harvard man!" Tony exclaimed, and I burst out laughing. Finally he complained, "It's not fair. I don't have any offspring to tempt you with." I finally stopped laughing and dabbed at my eyes.

"Don't worry, I plan to keep this business in the family," I said. "My family, me and J. Damian sorted me out with my business plan and all, but I'm the one calling the shots, and there's room for me to work with both you and Bruce."

I spent a little more time soothing him, then gently shooed him out of my office so I could finish before my next client. I got a call that evening from my folks, having heard from J about my new boyfriend. I wished J were here so I could smack him, but he had the rudimentary decency to keep the more personal details to himself.

"Uncle Bucky says that you're bringing him to dinner Wednesday," my dad said. I sighed and wished briefly that the family was bigger so this wouldn't be such a big deal. "We'll have to come up to the city to meet this boy ourselves." I refrained from pointing out that Damian was no longer a boy and said instead that I'd talk to Damian.

He called right afterward and asked if I could stay with him after dinner Wednesday, which I was happy to agree to. I told him that my parents wanted to meet him, and he sounded nervous as he agreed. "It's kind of a big deal," I said. "You'll be the first person either J or I have brought home to meet our parents. But my parents are nice, it's not like Dad's going to be waiting for you with a shotgun. But I think we should keep the pearls to ourselves for now." He made an inquisitive sound, and I rolled my eyes. "Because they were expensive, and it's pretty early in the relationship," I said gently.

"Huh," he said after a moment. "I wasn't trying to buy your affection," he said nervously, and I reassured him that I didn't take it that way and told him with perfect sincerity that I was really looking forward to wearing them to the fundraiser.

"I'm wearing the earrings today, though," I said touching them.

"You do like pearls, though, right?" he asked. "You're not just being nice, are you? I know they're kind of old-fashioned, but--"

"Oysters are our thing," I cut in. "And they're beautiful. I didn't realize that they could be so pretty, but the---what do you call it, the orient?-- is so lustrous. You have such a good eye." He relaxed after that. Then he brought up Valentines Day, just over a week away.

"We haven't been together long, but I want to celebrate it with you anyway," he said, and invited me to dinner and a sleepover. I was pleased to accept; I'd been thinking about what to get him. My budget was constrained, but it was less about the actual gift--as long as he liked it--and more about the sentiment. I hit the internet and found the perfect present: a shoeshine kit from Bespoke Post. He wasn't very good at polishing his shoes, and had once sheepishly said that when he needed them to look really good he asked Alfred to do it for him. I remembered seeing a couple pots of polish and a cloth in his closet; the kit had brushes and other stuff as well as instructions. Then I went to the Babeland site and ordered a few little treats for us both. I felt very efficient.

Damian picked me up after work on Wednesday and I gave him directions to Emma and Bucky's. Emma greeted us at the door with a kiss on the cheek for me and a grin for Damian. She cooed over the flowers and wine he brought, then we went back into the kitchen where Bucky was cooking and I got a big hug. Damian got a quick once over and a firm handshake. The dogs came in and Damian was taken a bit aback by the canine tide. I introduced him to Sigurd and Torburn, who had met him a long time ago and were slightly aloof but friendly enough. The little dogs, now quite old and rather arthritic, came up to meet the newcomer, and we chatted as Bucky finished the stew and pulled dinner rolls out of the oven. After Bucky's famous ice cream and Emma's cookies, Bucky walked us to the door, gave Damian another handshake, this time accompanied with a shoulder pat and I got a hug. All Bucky said was that Damian seemed to treat me well and that he was smart.

"Provisional acceptance," I said to Damian as we were driving away. "He's willing to take you on faith."

"Provided I don't hurt you," he said, nodding. "He wasn't as scary as I was expecting the Winter Soldier to be, but he still inspires a lot of respect."

"The Winter Soldier is what his enemies called him," I said, correcting the misapprehension. "That was what he was when he was controlled. Now he's Bucky Barnes. Protective uncle."

"Will anybody your brother brings home have to go through Mr Barnes as well?"

"Oh, yeah. Uncle Bucky isn't quite as close to J because he hasn't had the opportunity to spend as much time with him, but he takes being an uncle very seriously. He's old-fashioned in a lot of ways, but not about gender equality. J's girlfriends will have to sink or swim too. You did well, though. He's prepared to like you, with more exposure."

"It's nervewracking, this meeting the family thing."

"Easier for me, I just had your dad. And that was before there was an us, so I had an advantage." He squeezed my hand.

"Dad does like you," he confirmed. "There is my mother and her father, but I'd really rather you don't meet them. Grandfather in particular would have a fit about the jewelry I gave you." I gave him an inquiring look. "He's an old-school ecoterrorist, so massacring loads of helpless oysters for the gems they were forced to produce will be high on his shit list. I do feel bad about the oysters, but you just look so beautiful in them." At the hotel, he pulled up to the valet and hustled around to my side. By this time, I was comfortable waiting for him.

"This is part of why Bucky is inclined to like you," I said as I took his hand. "He's very big on manners, and yours are gorgeous." He flushed a little.

When the alarm went off the next morning, we were thoroughly entangled. As we showered together (there wasn't enough time for hanky-panky, regrettably) I said that although I always got claustrophobic when I spent too long with a guy, I really enjoyed waking up with him. His chest puffed out, so I washed it. "I'm thinking you're going to continue with your Robin-ing," I said, and pressed a kiss over his heart.

"Yeah, I can't in good faith quit," he said after a moment. "I don't really want to," he added quietly. I nodded and stepped up to put my arms around him. He held me too, and I stroked his tight butt before patting it and stepping back to look at him.

"I'm not asking you to," I said. "Just be careful. Call if you need help," I requested, and winked. He laughed.

I was in a super good mood for the rest of the week. Friday night he was going out with the Batman, so I was happy to go out with my friends. They wanted updates, first about the new business plan and what I'd decided to do about Tony's offer--Damian had looked it over and helped me figure out the pros and cons, and I'd signed the contract that morning--and then, the more interesting talk about Damian himself. Aslyn made me laugh with some of the stories she told Margaret about meeting him in high school and what a twit he could be, which reminded me to tell them about why he'd gone to Harvard.

"Oh, that's so sweet," Aslyn said, fanning herself. "Who'd have thought he was carrying a torch for you all the way back then?"

"It was news to me," I nodded.

"The coffee thing kills me," Margaret chuckled. "Didn't he know you guys also had teas?"

"Apparently not," I said, laughing. 

"So we've got a proposition," Aslyn said after we'd stopped laughing, finally. "Margaret finally got the payout from her renters insurance and my lease is coming up, so we thought we'd get an apartment together." I nodded, it made sense. "Well, we found a great place. It has three bedrooms," she said, and named the monthly rent.

"That sounds like so much fun," I said wistfully, "but I just can't afford that right now."

"Well," Margaret said, setting down her martini glass. "The third bedroom is considerably smaller, like, about half. We thought it wouldn't be fair to make you pay the full third." She told me the cost adjustment, and I wavered. It would be fun to get out of the tower, and the three of us knew each other well enough that I knew what I'd be getting into with them as roommates. Plus it would be really fun.

"You probably won't be there much anyway," Aslyn said practically. "Once you and Damian start getting into a groove, I'll bet you spend about half your nights with him."

"That is probably to your advantage," Margaret said, rolling her eyes. "She brought home a real moaner last weekend. He had a very limited vocabulary, too." I laughed and agreed to see the apartment the next day. They'd been pretty confident and set up an appointment.

The next day we had lunch and went to see the apartment. It was in an older building and had some cute details and scuffed hardwood floors. The bedroom that would be mine was indeed pretty tiny, but there was room for a double bed, nightstand, and a small bureau; there was a closet that would hold my clothes easily, since my day-to-day office wear was casual pants and polos. To make up for it, though, the bathroom was generously sized with a big mirror; we could all crowd in to do our makeup if needed. There was a reasonable living room and a cursory kitchen. I liked it a lot; it had higher ceilings and thick walls. We signed the lease and would move in the next weekend. The neighborhood was fairly quiet and had nice mature trees lining the street.

The next week, I bought a small, pretty Art Deco dresser and bedframe from a second-hand store. I got a narrow bedside table from Target and a rug (the lease specified that half of the floors had to be covered by rugs or furniture to cut down on the noise between floors) and that was all I had to worry about. Aslyn already had a great sofa, two coordinating chairs, TV and stand, coffee table, and a side table that could be put by the door where we could put our purses and keys when we got home. Margaret bought a big area rug, and that took care of our furnishings. Damian helped me move in and brought us a big bouquet of flowers as well as chocolates. "No meanings are implied with this bouquet," he proclaimed, and we grinned. It was too bad, I'd gotten used to decoding meanings but I also liked having that just be between us.

I spent the night at the apartment; Uncle Bucky had given me a couple of bottles of champagne to celebrate, so we stayed in and had a little party. I liked the new apartment much better than the room in the tower, but I liked sleeping with Damian better. A huge bonus though was that we all had access to each others' closets, which came in handy for Valentines Day. I borrowed a red silk slip dress from Margaret. The girls loved the pearls, oohing over them after I put the strand on. Damian picked me up, and we returned to his suite. I dropped my bag with my clothes for the next day in his bedroom and met him in the dining room, where he'd cleared off the table. It was set for two, with branches of candles creaking sparks off the fine crystal and making the silver gleam. He seated me and ran his hands over my bare shoulders before bringing in the appetizers. I was unsurprised to see oysters and grinned at him. I watched him watching me eat my share, enjoying the smooth slide of the oysters down my throat and the briny liquid. I ran my foot up his leg, enjoying the shift in his expression. This time we knew where the evening would end, so the sensuality was a prelude, as much an appetizer as the oysters.

He cleared the oysters away and the rest of the meal was small plates, bites of food that we could feed each other, mixing in kisses and wine with abandon. Dessert was a chocolate fondue with small cubes of angel food cake and fruit and champagne. He opened the champagne with a small saber; I'd never seen it done and it was impressive. We abandoned dessert and went straight to his bedroom. The sex was divine. I'd never felt closer to him and we were completely in tune with each other. After our last orgasms, he slumped over me, sweating and shaking. That's ok, I was trembling and sweaty too. Reluctantly, he slid out and rolled to the side, keeping me on top of him, and I listened to his racing heart gradually slow and his breathing even out. He peeled my hair off my skin and stroked my back until I had recovered enough to sit up. He smiled slightly and switched his hands to my front. I stroked the slabs of muscle that made up his torso, simply enjoying touching him. When I got back from the bathroom, he was out; I crawled into bed next to him and drew the sheet up.

When I woke up, he was snuggled up to my back, with his hand wrapped around my wrist, leg over my thighs, and his impressive erection firm against me. This time the sex was really passionate, less tender, and incredibly energizing, and we had a shower before going back out to the dining room. The fondue wasn't looking very good at this point, so we finished the strawberries and the almost flat champagne, sharing and kissing. Then I remembered and hopped off his lap, returning with his present.

"I'm sorry, it's not romantic," I apologized, and he tore into the package with interest. He had a huge grin on his face when he poked through the brushes and found the instruction booklet.

"It's just what I need," he said enthusiastically. "I embarrass myself with scruffy shoes. I asked Alfred to show me, but he doesn't like me doing his duties and he's been putting me off. It's part of his campaign to get me to move back to the mansion. Thank you, beautiful," he said, running his thumb over one of the brushes. "I'll think of you every time I polish my shoes." I beamed.

He put his arm around me to keep me on his lap as he hooked his suitcoat and retrieved a small box from the inner pocket. They turned out to be earring jackets, little baskets that sat behind solitaire earrings and surrounded the earring with small diamonds. They winked in the light and I took off the pearl earrings to slide them up the posts. They cradled the pearls, adding sparks of light around them. "Ooh..." I said, and put them on.

"So beautiful," he murmured. I wanted to see, so we got up and went back to the bedroom and I looked at them in the mirror over the bureau. He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and we made love watching ourselves together.

I went to work the next morning tired but so happy. He found the things I'd gotten from Babeland and laughed, putting them into the bedside table. "Next time, maybe," he said, and we went downstairs and out into the world.

I started sleeping over about half the time, sleeping in my apartment when he was out Robining. That way I kept in touch with my friends and had the fun of living with them too. I didn't want to ditch my friends because I was in a relationship, however intoxicating the newness of that was. I didn't even really notice the heaps of dirty snow on the streets or the freezing temperatures of the cold snap we were in. In the beginning of March, Damian took Bucky and Emma to dinner with us and the next week my folks came down. My mom adored him and my dad approved, which was kind of a surprise; he doesn't warm up to strangers very quickly but he exerted himself for me. And the next week I introduced him to Sam and Mindy, who I met every couple months for dinner. "All you have left is J," I said one night, trying out my fledgling massage skills.

"Do you think he'll like me?" he mumbled anxiously into the bed.

"Yes, of course. He'll probably be his usual smart ass self, you'll like him."

"I want him to like me. You two are close."

"He will, honey. He wants me to be happy, and you make me happier than I thought I could be." He caught my hand and kissed it.

All was going well. Then one night I was woken up from a sound sleep in the apartment. It was Damian, breathing hard, his voice tight. "Darling, I'm sorry to wake you up," he said. "But I got into a fight tonight and I need you."


	8. Paramedic training

"I'll be there as soon as I can," I said, and turned off the phone. I didn't expect to get back before going to the office, so I quickly dressed in my clothes for work and quickly stuffed another change of clothing into my messenger bag, then grabbed my phone and took off running. I ran to the tower, where I picked up an emergency kit that I had in case I needed to call on my paramedic training and the portable tissue accelerator, then hit the street. This being New York and the tower where it was, it wasn't hard to get a cab and we made good time to the hotel. By now the hotel personnel knew that I was seeing a resident and I didn't get any questions. I knocked on his door and it opened slowly. I eased through it as Damian started to slide to the floor.

I was able to catch him before he got too far down and helped him into his bedroom, which was fortunately the closest room. I stripped the bed quickly and helped him to lay down on the sheet. He tried to suppress it but he whimpered in pain. I hit the lights and started to dig through my kit. I took his blood pressure, checked his pulse, pupil dilation, skin, and respiration, slipping a pulse oximeter on his finger. His respiratory rate was higher than normal, but his pulse oximeter reading was 96%, so the respiratory rate was likely due to the pain he was in. Pupils dilated normally, pulse rapid and a little weak. His skin was slightly cool and sweaty and his blood pressure was down. He was wearing his Robin costume, and it was going to be hard to cut through; it was layered tac fabrics, maybe with Kevlar in there somewhere. I found the zippers and started to ease him out. There wasn't significant blood aside from a bloody nose; his nose was very definitely broken. The girlfriend in me cringed at the livid bruising coming up all over his torso and arms, but I hung onto the paramedic part of me that noted it and moved on. I eased his... pants? leggings? down and saw that there was bruising on his thighs and shins, but these weren't quite as bad as the ones on his upper body. There was also an integrated protective cup, I was thrilled to see. I administered oxygen, caught up the notes on his condition, gently eased a firm cushion from the chair under his legs to raise them, flipped a light blanket over him to help with the symptoms of shock and ran an IV of fluids.

I saw his phone on the nightstand and called Alfred as I began an abdominal examination. "Master Damian?" he asked alertly. Who the hell is that awake at this hour of the morning?

"Sorry, Alfred, this is Alex. Damian called me earlier, saying he'd been in a hell of a fight, excuse the language. So I came over as quickly as I could and found him in distress." I relayed the information on the vitals. He asked questions and once much of the IV had been discharged, I repeated the vitals. Damian was more alert, his blood pressure rising, pulse stronger and slower. Good, good. His skin was warming and drying as well, and Damian was able to give a summary of events; he'd been investigating some suspicious activity and been surprised by a gang; he thought they were Penguin's men. He'd managed to get free, get back to the hotel, and call me. I had Damian be quiet so I could listen to his lungs and bowel sounds, then used percussion to check for irritation. There was pain, tenderness, and slight rigidity over the upper right quadrant, indicating possible rib fracture. But there was good news, too; there wasn't a full or doughy feeling anywhere, suggesting that there wasn't internal bleeding, the combination of rigidity and guarding that presents with intestinal leakage wasn't present, and his pelvis was stable.

Alfred had me go to the extensive closet; in the corner, obscured by a couple of suits of formal wear, was an ultrasound machine on its cart. I smiled. I knew how to conduct the FAST exam. It wasn't part of the paramedic training, but I'd had some very slow shifts during training and a technician showed me in detail. It took a little time to get the instrument up and calibrated, then I checked the pericardial, periphepatic, perispleenic, and peripelvic spaces, explaining to Damian what I was doing as I went. There was no sign of fluid. I breathed a sigh of relief. I turned on a laptop on the cart and sent the images to Alfred to confirm, then cleaned Damian's face while we waited. Damian said he had to go to the bathroom, which was good.

"Test for blood, Alex," Alfred instructed absently, and I accompanied Damian to the bathroom. He was a little embarrassed, but when the test showed no blood, I told him it was worth it. I helped him back to bed and got him settled. By this time, Alfred had reviewed the ultrasounds and was of the opinion that there wasn't internal damage, just an absolute crap-ton of bruising (that would be my descriptive terminology.) He told me the combination to the suite safe, where there were painkillers and muscle relaxants, which ones to use and how much to administer, and told me to go ahead and use the portable tissue accelerator on Damian. It wasn't as powerful as a full-size one and each treated area would take more time, but Alfred praised my quick thinking. I got Damian settled the most comfortably and started the treatment. I set Damian's nose, which was not pleasant for either of us, then Damian fell asleep quickly, but Alfred said it wasn't a problem and asked about my schedule. He said he would come by before I had to leave for work and keep an eye on Damian, which made me feel a lot better. I was kind of hoping that he'd take Damian to the bat cave for a more thorough examination with more instrumentation. We hung up and I put my kit back together, put away the ultrasound, and in general cleaned up, boosting the temperature in the room to be sure he didn't take a chill. I pulled up the chair next to him and set my phone alarm, napping in between slowly moving the tissue accelerator around his body and checking him for distress that I might have missed. About an hour and a half before I had to go to work, I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth, and put on my makeup so I wouldn't look too disturbing to my clients. I was grateful for my long hair, it meant I didn't have to fuss. I took out my clothing for the next day and set them down inconspicuously on a table. Damian woke up when I checked on him again.

"I'm sorry to have dragged you out of bed," he said quietly.

"I'm glad you called," I said absently, then made him stop speaking as I took his vitals again. Everything was within normal ranges. I adjusted the accelerator again and sat on the bed by his side, taking his hand. "Do you want some more pain killers?" I asked, smoothing his thick, silky hair off his forehead.

"No, I don't really like to take drugs," he said. He smiled slightly. "It's sure nice to wake up to you. You're prettier than Alfred." I grinned at him.

"That she is, Master Damian," Alfred said crisply, and I heard the door to the suite close. He and Bruce strode into the room.

"Doesn't anybody beside my girlfriend knock?" Damian asked plaintively and I got up to allow Alfred room to check on Damian. Bruce patted my shoulder when I sat on the chair again and handed me a keycard.

"Damn it, Dad, this is my suite," Damian said peevishly. "I wanted to offer her a key." Bruce sighed, plucked the card from my hand, and gave it to his offspring. Alfred finished his exam and didn't think there was anything worse than bruising, and he stepped back to stand by Bruce expectantly. Damian looked sulky, but his expression softened as he looked at me.

"Alex, darling, I'd like you to have a key to the suite. Come by any time you want, for any reason, even if I'm not here," he said, holding the card out. I took it, smiling at him, and got up for a light kiss. He had a split lip, which made his smile less broad than usual. Did I just hear Alfred sniffle a little? Surely not.

"Thank you, honey. I've got to get to work now, but call me if you need anything. I'll be back after I get off work." He looked hopeful.

"Can I persuade you to stay the night?" he asked, and I brushed his cheek lightly.

"I'd planned on it."

"I can drop you at the tower, Miss Alex," Alfred offered, and I sighed. I would have loved to take a personal day, but that's inadvisable when you're the only employee who can do your work. He insisted on taking my paramedic bag and escorted me down to a black Rolls Royce. He was going to tuck me into the back, but I stood by the front door handle and smiled. After a moment he smiled back and held the door to the front passenger seat. The interior was black and purple leather, different but very nice. Alfred let me poke all the buttons on the console as we spoke about Damian's exams and condition. He glided to a stop, and with perfect indifference, parked in the loading zone of the tower to open my door and hand me my bag. 

"Have a productive day at work, Miss Alex," he said, and smiled as I thanked him. Bemused by the way my morning was going, I went inside and trotted down the stairs to work. After lunch, there was a flower delivery; a box of gladioli, Queen Anne's Lace, and irises--strength of character and generosity, haven, and valor. The card read 'Plus yarrow. They didn't have any.' That meant healing. I grinned. He'd created a spreadsheet that drew meanings from several websites after the one we'd been using was taken down and it was faster and more fun to use it. Later, there was a bouquet of roses, in bloom, an assortment of pale shades; the colors weren't all in the playbook, so I went with the quantity and a bouquet of mature roses meant gratitude. They sure were beautiful.

After work, I went to the hotel feeling both eagerness and trepidation. He'd given me a key, after all, and that was a big step. "Honey?" I called out, sticking my head in the suite and looking around before the rest of me followed cautiously.

"In here, beautiful," he said groggily from the bedroom, and after taking off my coat and stowing my messenger bag beneath the entry table, went in to see how he was. He sat up in bed , the sheet sliding off his torso. It was only faintly bruised now, and I relaxed. "Alfred took me out to the mansion after dropping dad at work for a session with the big accelerator," he said. "I'll get another treatment before going to work tomorrow." His eyes had shadows around them but nothing like the raccoon eyes most people got after a badly broken nose. He touched the nose gently. "Nothing the accelerator can do for that," he said wistfully, then held out his arms. I cuddled in gladly for the hug, then we curled up in bed together and talked. Alfred had been busy--he'd come by earlier with a hearty soup and bread for our dinner. After dinner, we watched a few episodes of 'Stranger Things' and went to bed early.

"Can I borrow a t-shirt to sleep in?" I asked. "I forgot to bring anything."

He went to the closet and drew out a large, flat box. "I thought about that," he said easily. "I saw your clothes there and it's just for work, so I did a little shopping in between naps." He kissed my neck, leaning over the back of the chair as I opened the box. Inside ivory tissue paper was a long-sleeved dark pink nightgown, short, soft knit fabric with satin around the hems, and a gorgeous silk robe in a delicate pink, lined with a darker pink; the hems were all padded for a luxurious effect, and the sash had an intricate knotted fringe on each end.

"Wow," I said.

"I saw it and thought of you," he said in my ear. "There were other nightgowns I'd love to see you in--translucent chiffon, delicate laces--but that's for later. This looked warmer."

I kissed him. "I sleep with you and you're nice and warm. But this looks really comfortable. Thank you, honey. The robe is just...gorgeous."

"My pleasure. You're a gorgeous woman, you should have things that are as wonderful as you are." He kissed me gently. "And I thought, since you have a key--I was going to offer it this weekend, in a more romantic setting, it wasn't just Dad trampling all over my moment--that you could bring some things over. I have plenty of drawers and closet space."

I grinned and brushed his lips with mine. "Are you tired of sharing your toothbrush?"

"I got you one," he said, nuzzling me. My palms were a little sweaty at this step, but...

"I'll bring some things over this weekend." His eyes warmed. Then he yawned.

"Sorry, it's not the company," he said hastily. I laughed. Using the tissue accelerator made you tired. We got ready for bed, and as I slid the nightgown on, I reflected that it felt kind of weird. We usually slept naked together, but this would be nice. The fabric was soft and warm on my skin. When I got into bed next to Damian, he grinned and proudly held out a fuzzy lump to me. When I investigated, I found that they were warm, fluffy socks. I hated sleeping with cold feet.

"You think of everything," I said as I eagerly put them on. Then I cuddled up to his side and drew up the sheet and duvet, draping my arm across his chest. He put his hand over mine.

"I'm sorry for waking you up and dragging you over here to deal with this mess," he said quietly. "I could have called Alfred, but I wanted you instead."

"I'm glad you did," I said. "I'm glad I was able to help you. You mean a lot" the world "to me."

"You're important to me. Robin is also who I am."

"I know. I'm not asking you to quit, just...minimize the damage when you can. I always want you to come back to me."

"Always," he breathed, and turned on his side. I think he was going to kiss me, but we bumped noses and he swore, sitting up, his eyes watering. I patted his eyes dry and drew him back down. We both needed a good nights' sleep.

He dropped me off at the tower on his way to the accelerator treatment before work. I kissed him goodbye, very carefully, and got out of the car. But before I closed the door, I went with my impulse and leaned back in. "I love you," I said, then closed the door and went into the tower.

Forty-seven minutes later, three dozen red roses showed up at the desk. And a bird of paradise, in a separate vase. "I love you," the card read. "Deeper than the Challenger Deep. Stay with me tonight. I can't wait to tell you face to face."

Of course I agreed.


	9. Dating life

By midafternoon, the events of the past couple of days had caught up with me and I was beat. I kept falling asleep over the genetic analyses I was trying to finish. I was really interested, because I thought that I was beginning to see a pattern. In my small sample, I was starting to see what I thought what might be a marker for some superhuman abilities. I needed more samples, though. A lot more than the X-men could provide, and samples that tested at more places at the genome than most of the X-men samples did. I put that on the back burner, though.

And I was nervous about the whole Damian situation. What I was feeling for him was so deep and strong that it kind of frightened me, actually. I'd said I loved my previous boyfriends, but in comparison, that love felt like a meandering little creek compared to a roaring torrent. And things were going fast. While I was ok with each individual step, after a bit of acclimation, I was pushing so far past my comfort zone in so many areas of my life that it freaked me out. I'd been graduated with my last degree a little more than ten months, I was fighting through the nettles of my own ineptitude to keep my business going, finding my own place in the world, and finding my way through uncertain ground with Damian. Part of my concerns was that he had a very dangerous after-hours avocation. I didn't want him to stop, but I knew that going forward, I'd only see more of these incidents. And his enemies had become mine before. I'd never had what I would term a successful relationship before, they had both been short and even at the time I knew they wouldn't last. And I was serious about Damian. Deadly serious. One thing that I was glad for was that my apartment lease with the girls was for a year, so I wouldn't be facing the question of moving in with Damian for a good while. I wanted to go further, but I didn't want to go too fast. Or drag my feet. Ugh.

Nevertheless, I left promptly after my last client and walked quickly to the hotel, where I let myself in. He wasn't home yet, so I went into the living room with the bullseye windows and curled up in the window seat that overlooked Central Park. I was just nodding off when my phone buzzed. It was Damian, telling me that he'd gotten hung up on a conference call but was headed back with dinner. I hopped up and brushed my teeth, touched up my makeup and hair, then sent into the dining room and set the table for two. I greeted him with a gentle hug (an x-ray done today revealed two cracked ribs) and an enthusiastic kiss, which he returned with interest. Then he took my face in his hands and said, "I love you." He sighed. "I've been waiting all day to tell you that." His thumb brushed the top of my cheekbone. "You look tired, love."

"It's been an exciting couple of days," I admitted. "I love you too. But I'm starving." Laughing, he gave me the bag, and I smelled Chinese food. Delicious. We went right in to eat. My fortune cookie read "Accept your past without regret, handle your present with confidence, and face your future without fear," which we agreed was a good one. Damian's read, "All your fingers can't be of the same length," which made us laugh and try to ascribe meaning to it. Failing that, I insisted on cleaning up, and hunted him up shortly thereafter in the bedroom, where he was putting on a robe. There were still some bruises, even after the accelerator treatments, and I brushed the worst ones with my fingers, opining that perhaps the Robin suit should be tough rubber like the Batman suit, at least on the torso. He was very stoic about the ribs, though, and he promised to consider it. We decided to take a bath together to relax and fool around a bit. In bed, I got to be on top the whole time out of consideration for his ribs.

"Given how romantic he is, I thought it would be a bigger deal," Aslyn said the next day when we met for a coffee break. "He finally got to tell you he loves you. That's been kicking around for a good long time now."

I smiled. "It was perfect. It was just what is between us, which is enough."

"Plus it makes you uncomfortable when he buys you things because you can't reciprocate," she said, poking her coffee stirrer at me before discarding it.

"True." I looked around, but there was nobody near us. I didn't know why I thought it was private information, but I did. "I went on the Mikimoto site to find information on pearls because I don't know anything about them. And while I was there, I looked at the jewelry they're selling. They don't have any two-strand necklaces on their site, but based on the one strand ones they do show, my strand had to cost about $20 000. Tell me you wouldn't be uncomfortable."

"Shit," Aslyn said, leaning in and covering her mouth with her hand. "My folks have money, but my dad would never spend that on just a necklace."

"Well, there were earrings, too," I said, touching them. She laughed.

"Yeah, those single pearls added so much to the purchase price," she teased. "Speaking of guys, Margaret wants us to meet her boyfriend this Friday."

"Vanilla?" I said, surprised. She grinned.

"It's a new thing, just earlier this week," she allowed. "So I guess it must be love, because he seems pretty tame for her."

"I have no room to talk," I said. "Damian and I don't match up on paper either." We texted Margaret and got it all set up. We'd be meeting for cocktails.

"I forgot to tell you," Aslyn said, eyes twinkling. "I also have a date after the cocktails. I met her a couple weeks ago, this will be our third date."

"Ok, I'll stay at Damian's," I said, nudging her side. She laughed.

"I didn't know Aslyn was a lesbian," Damian said later as we were making our weekend plans.

"She's not," I said absently as I looked over the dress I was going to wear to the fundraiser to make sure there weren't any rips or stains. "She's bi. She's had about equal numbers of girlfriends and boyfriends."

"Huh. So tell me about this guy Margaret's seeing."

"Don't know that much about him, actually, she said once that he's pretty unadventurous, so either she's gotten him to try new things or she's ok with it. Be interesting to finally meet the guy."

He turned out to have a name--Thomas--and was blandly good looking with light blond hair and hazel eyes. He was expressionless as Margaret introduced Aslyn and me, but started smiling after we'd been chatting a little. He stuck with water for drinks, and Margaret, who would usually have two martinis during a happy hour, made one last for the two hours we were there. He seemed somewhat uptight and was just starting out on Wall Street. At the end of our get-together, I said, "It's nice to have met you." His smile didn't reach his eyes as he said goodbye and escorted Margaret to a taxi.

Aslyn and I were left abruptly at the curb. "What just happened?" I asked.

"I think he hates us," she said. "He didn't even say 'nice to meet you too,' which you always say even if you're lying. I just don't see the attraction unless it's the polar opposites thing."

"He must be different with Margaret," was all I could think of to say. We'd gotten done sooner than we'd expected, actually, so we went to have an ice cream before her date started. Aslyn got a text that her date was also ready early, so she was invited to ice cream with us. Ellen turned out to be gorgeous, slightly shorter than Aslyn, with Titian hair and blue eyes. They made a striking couple. She was also gregarious and fun, unlike Vanilla--whoops, Thomas. Had to break that habit before I used it around him. We enjoyed our ice cream, then I said goodnight and went to the hotel. Damian was out with his friends, so I turned on the TV and watched a hockey game off and on while reading. I texted Aslyn that I liked Ellen a lot, and felt better for one of my friends.

The next night was the fundraiser, and Damian took me for a couple's massage beforehand. It was lovely to be massaged by an expert. The pearls were the last thing I put on, and Damian fastened the clasp and kissed the nape of my neck. "So beautiful," he murmured. It was a dinner thing with cocktails before and dancing after, and he introduced me to a lot of people. His dad was there with a gorgeous woman, age-appropriate, who was sleek and sophisticated from her updo to the hem of her dress. "Selina Kyle," Bruce introduced me after patting his son's shoulder and kissing my cheek.

"Delightful," she purred, as we shook hands. She wore a lovely pearl collar with cats on the central plaque.

When we got home, Damian told me that Selina was also Catwoman, a revelation that left me stunned. "Dad likes the dark side," he said, shrugging. "They've been on and off for decades."

"Batman and Catwoman, though," I said, taking my necklace off and putting it in its case. "Jeeze. Can I keep this here?" I asked. "I don't feel it's really safe in the apartment and you've got a room safe."

"Of course," he said, taking the case and putting it inside the safe for me as I skinned out of the dress, putting on my new robe.

"Those are good colors for you," he said, as he returned to me and tugged at the sash.

"I think I'd quite like it if I ever got the opportunity to wear it," I said, laughing, as he tossed the sash on the back of the chair and slid his hands inside the robe over my skin.

"Try it some time when I'm not here," was his advice as I popped the shirt studs out of his tuxedo shirt and peeled it over his broad shoulders. He worked my panties over my hips as I unzipped his pants, but left the thigh-highs and my dress shoes on, his gaze heating as he looked at me before tossing me on the bed. He quickly shed the rest of his clothes before joining me.

On Sunday, we slept in, then went into Central Park for the afternoon, visiting the Carousel and the zoo and walking along the paths hand in hand. We had dinner, and he dropped me off at my apartment.

Time to face the music. Aslyn and Margaret were inside, chatting as they watched TV. I dropped my messenger bag inside the door to my room before coming back and sitting in the chair. "So what did you think of Thomas?" she asked us eagerly.

"He's cute," I said before Aslyn could. It was the kindest thing I could think to say about him, and only for a specific definition of 'cute' as 'not ugly.' Aslyn grimaced at me for saying it first. "He seems very into you," I added for good measure.

"Thanks," Margaret said, then looked at us closely. "You don't like him," she said, disappointed.

"We didn't have a lot of time to get to know him," I said.

Aslyn sighed. "Not really, and it seemed that the feeling was mutual."

"It takes awhile for him to warm up to new people," Margaret said. "So I can see why you would think so."

"I have specific concerns," Aslyn said. "I noticed that you only had one martini rather than the two you have with us."

"That was my choice," Margaret said. "His dad is an alcoholic, so he doesn't drink. I enjoy my martinis and I'm not willing to give them up, but it was my idea to cut back. He didn't ask me to do it."

"Ok, that's good. But look, Margaret, you know yourself that sometimes friends just don't get along with boyfriends. I think that's what's happening here. He never asked either Alex or me anything about ourselves, and while you've probably told him about us, there's always a few questions just to be polite. He didn't engage with us at all between the introductions and the farewells. Remember? Even you couldn't get him to talk to us."

"I know," she said, sighing. "He can be a dick, but he's always really good to me."

"As long as he doesn't get controlling," I said, and she nodded.

"He's pretty conservative," Margaret said. "When he asked how long the cocktails would last so he would know when to get our dinner reservation, I said that Aslyn had a date with Ellen. He doesn't really approve of anything but straight heterosexuality."

That put a silence over the group until I started to laugh. "You obviously haven't told him about your sex life before him," I said fondly, and she flushed.

"No," she said. "but have you told Damian anything about yours?"

"Just that I had a couple boyfriends, not that I tried a bunch of different aspects of sexuality," I acknowledged. "But I honestly don't think he'd care. Neither of us has asked about sex before we got together."

"Probably not," she said, and huffed out some air. "But Thomas does care. And I care for him. I don't think it will last over the long term, but when it's just us, he's terrific." She dropped her head back and addressed the ceiling. "He's not perfect, but honestly, I'd like to settle down with somebody. I'd like to find my own Damian," she said to me and nudged me with her foot.

"Don't settle, Margaret," I said peaceably. "Have fun with Thomas, however long that lasts. But you deserve more than 'good enough.' Damian has some nice friends who I'm sure would love to meet you if you decide to test the waters again."

"Well, enjoy yourself," Aslyn advised. "But there's no point in more cocktail hours with the four of us, I think." We nodded. Then Margaret smiled.

"So, tell us about Ellen," she said coaxingly.

"She seemed nice," I said to Aslyn, then showed them a pic I'd snapped at the ice cream shop. "Gorgeous, isn't she?" Margaret agreed, and we talked for a couple more hours. I felt better about Margaret afterward. Maybe I'd ask Damian to ID a couple of his single friends who might be a good match for her.

I went to sleep plotting dates for Margaret. And possibly Aslyn, if the thing with Ellen didn't work out. One thing that it made me realize is that I didn't have a lot of friends any more, which was a state I hadn't been in for years, since high school. In college I had tons of friends and acquaintances. I needed to expand my horizons.

I woke up, feeling stifled. It was still dark outside, too early for the alarm...then I noticed the smell of smoke in the air, thick and acrid. I went to flip on the bedside light, but it didn't work. I got up and moved to the door as I started to cough. The door caught on my messenger bag and I picked it up absently as I went into the living room. I could see light moving in the a between the curtains and hurried over. The windows of the building across the street were alive, reflecting the flames from our building. That woke me up and I ran to Margaret's room, pounding on the door before going over to Aslyn's door. "Get up!" I shouted. "The building's on fire!"

I opened their doors; the smoke wasn't as pronounced on this side of the apartment. I grabbed Margaret's wrist and pulled her along; Aslyn ran out of her room and met us at the door. The hall was thick with smoke and we pounded on doors on the way to the stairs. The smoke was terrible in the stairwell, as if it was being funneled up. It was crowded with panicked people, and we got separated. The railings got hot closer to the ground. I screamed as fire broke through the wall right next to me, and all of us panicked and ran. People fell; I helped some guy who'd been trampled get to his feet but I was too afraid to linger. The main floor was ablaze, but it was only a short dash to the door to the street and I focused on the door, hitting it with my shoulder because I was sure the metal and glass would be hot. And I noticed then that aside from the living sounds of the fire and the desperation of the people, there were no fire alarms going off. Somebody started beating on my back. At last I stumbled onto the street, coughing hard, sucking in the cold night air.

"Your hair is on fire!" somebody shouted hoarsely, and I stood and let them beat it out.

"Thanks," I managed to say, then moved into the street with the others, watching anxiously for Aslyn and Margaret. I saw people with their cell phones out, some calling, some taking video. I didn't see Aslyn until she was only a couple of feet in front of me. We clutched each other.

"Margaret?" I said, before choking on the smoke again.

She shook her head and we looked through the crowd for her, keeping tight hold on each other. "Some people are coming around the side of the building," she pointed out, coughing. Sirens approached as we looked, then the arrival of fire trucks pushed us to the opposite sidewalk. We watched, shaking with the cold now that we were pushed back from the flames, as firetrucks hooked up efficiently and quickly to hydrants and police cleared us back. Ambulances arrived, their sirens adding to the hellish chaos, and soon we were being assessed by the paramedics and given oxygen for smoke inhalation. I was treated for first- and second-degree burns from the stairwell. Then we were given blankets as a horrible crashing noise caught everybody's attention. The floors were collapsing.

Aslyn and I huddled together. I realized that I was clutching the strap of my messenger bag. I pulled out my phone and tried Margaret, not hoping for much, I couldn't remember her having her phone. It went to voicemail. We shivered together despite the blankets until we were rechecked by the paramedics and questioned by a police officer. We didn't have much to say about it. I told the officer how I'd tripped over my bag on the way out, that the lights hadn't worked and the smoke alarms hadn't functioned. At all. He didn't have any information about Margaret, and we were told to clear the area. We went to the edge of the activity and stood looking as others were treated and released from questioning. We stayed an hour. We didn't see Margaret, but maybe she'd been one of the ones taken away in an ambulance. I called Damian.

In half an hour, he'd picked us up and had us tucked into the suite. There were three bedrooms; when we found Margaret, there'd be room for her too. Damian showered with me, washing my hair and conditioning it, washing off the ash, careful not to wet my bandages. I was too shaky to do a good job of it myself. Then he dried me off, got me into my nightgown, and carried me to bed. I was still shaking, off and on, until I fell asleep. When I woke up, Damian hovered over me and insisted on making me breakfast. I called my office and left Doug a message, telling him I wouldn't be in today, then called my uncle, leaving him a brief message too. Then as Damian scrambled some eggs, I got some clothes and took them into Aslyn. She was just coming out of her bathroom, looking as traumatized as I felt. "Damian's making breakfast," I husked, and we clutched hands as we walked to the dining room. Damian came straight over to give her a hug, then seated us at the table, serving us soft breakfast foods that wouldn't hurt our throats.

"I'm going to go out for a few things for you," he told us. "Make a list, honey. Aslyn, I want you to stay here as long as you'd like." He got on the phone to tell his dad he was going to be late, and I made a list, including Aslyn's favorite toiletries and our clothing and shoe sizes. I'd been sleeping in socks, but Aslyn had been barefoot.

"Will you be ok by yourselves?" he asked, kneeling beside me and kissing my fingers. I nodded and smoothed his hair. "Ok, I'll be back as soon as I can, darling," he said, taking the list and hurrying out the door.

As the door clicked behind him, I tried Margaret's phone again and left a message, telling her where we were, that we were OK and to call me.

"She knows where you'd go," Aslyn croaked, and we looked at each other for a moment. I got my messenger bag and retrieved the card the police officer had given me. I was transferred twice before talking to a detective, telling him we were looking for our roommate. He took Margaret's name and had me email him a picture of her, telling me he'd check and call back.

We sat in silence until the phone rang.


	10. Gray days

The phone call was from a detective. He said that, based on the photograph I'd sent, that a preliminary identification of Margaret had been made. Her body had been taken to the morgue for an autopsy to determine the cause of death. He asked if I would come down to identify the body. I said that I would, then hung up.

Aslyn and I were still crying when Damian came in, accompanied by Alfred and burdened with shopping bags. When they heard what we needed to do, Alfred went into Super Butler mode, efficiently separated our stuff, and stated that he would be pleased to drive us where ever we needed to go. That snapped us out of it, and we shambled off to get dressed.

I huddled next to Damian in the back seat of the Rolls; Aslyn was in the front seat. We identified ourselves at the front desk and shown to a room where the compassionate morgue attendant showed us a photograph of her face. Aslyn and I both identified our roommate and friend. The detective was present and had a couple of follow-up questions. He said that it looked as if she'd succumbed to smoke inhalation, although there were signs that she'd been trampled. I confirmed that the electricity hadn't been working in my room and that the smoke detectors hadn't gone off. I thought about that; the smoke detectors were wired rather than battery operated. "Was the electricity off?" I asked, puzzled. The detective gave us a noncommittal answer and concluded the interview.

"What's going to happen to her now?" Aslyn asked, tears streaking her face. The detective offered the tissue box all around.

"Her family is making arrangements to have her cremated and returned to them."

"We don't have any contact information for them," she persisted. "Is there going to be a memorial service or funeral?" The detective looked at her with compassion and said he'd pass along the questions. We had to be content with that.

"I bet there won't be, not here," Aslyn said bitterly. I nodded. Her parents hadn't liked that she'd chosen to live in such a big city, but she was an urban planner, and there simply wasn't enough of Montana that needed planning, so going home hadn't been an option. Not that she'd wanted to. She loved living in New York.

"You can have your own memorial service," Damian suggested, initiating a group hug, then guiding us back outside where Alfred waited.

"Cara, Martha, and Bess will want to come," I said wearily. "I suppose we should invite Vanilla."

"He'll probably blame us," Aslyn muttered.

"I keep thinking I should have tried harder to stay with you guys," I admitted. "I was afraid, though. I wanted to get out of there ASAP."

"You couldn't have done anything differently," Aslyn told me. "We were together one moment and then the next, it seemed, I was alone. And I wanted to get out too. Margaret wouldn't have been any different. We all did our best." After that, we were silent as we went back to the hotel. Aslyn went to lie down, and I had some phone calls to return. The first to my uncle, who was getting ready to charge over; I told him that I was ok, but my roommate was dead. Bucky said I didn't sound ok, and got me to agree to come to the tower to have my throat looked at. I knocked on Aslyn's door and asked if she wanted to see a doctor to be checked out, and she wearily called her doctor. They would squeeze her in, so Alfred drove her and Damian took me to the tower. Before going up to the clinic, I checked in at work to tell Doug what happened and that I probably wouldn't be in tomorrow either. Then I stopped by the training room, where Bucky hugged me and asked me to come back down after seeing the doctors. Up in the clinic, they determined that my throat, sinuses, and lungs had been damaged by the smoke and heat and took chest x-rays, monitored my heart, and drew blood. They gave me an IV and gave me oxygen since my pulse ox reading was a little low. I sagged against Damian while we waited for the test results. The doctor said that I'd be fine, and administered heparin and pentoxifylline to help with the pulmonary irritants. Then they checked and treated the burns on my arm with the tissue accelerator and turned me loose when I was adequately hydrated and my pulse ox reading was normal. I felt slightly better, and clutched the papers that told me what to look for in terms of infection or other possible problems as we went back down to see Bucky. He'd contacted my parents, and while they were upset, he'd managed to keep them from rushing down to see me. He'd called J too, but he was studying for mid-terms and was content with the knowledge that I was getting care. Emma came down and after a careful hug gave me a big bottle of water and they both wanted to know if there was anything they could do.

"I wish there was," I said, trying not to cry.

"I'll bring some soup by later on," Bucky promised, and Damian took me home.

Aslyn wasn't back yet, so Damian took a nap with me. When I woke up, Aslyn was back and he coddled us with easy-to swallow foods for lunch. After lunch, he went into work for a couple hours after I promised I'd call if I needed anything, and Aslyn and I both began the process of dealing with the fallout in our lives. There was our renter's insurance carriers to be notified, the landlord to contact. I was expecting some kind of a fight with the landlord, but the company said that they would refund our damage deposit, the last month's rent that we'd paid when we signed the lease, and prorate the rent up to the date of the fire. Alfred had driven Aslyn past the building and she said it was a total loss.

"My parents are having a cow," she said glumly. "They want me to come live at home."

"My family wants me to move back to the tower," I sighed. Remembering, I took my hair out of the chignon and had her look for damage. Fortunately, whoever'd put out the fire had done so before much of my hair had burned.

"You can't really tell right now," Aslyn said encouragingly. "It's not at all like the lab accident when we were in high school. It must have been just sparks." Her hair, which was currently styled in an adorable pixie, had come through unscathed. She sighed. "I think I'm giving up on apartments," she said. "Margaret was burned out of two. Mom knows a realtor. We can still be roommates," she offered.

"I think I might move back to the tower. It's the most secure place I know," I said.

"I'm surprised Damian hasn't asked you to move in with him," she said.

"He might," I conceded. "I just don't know if I'm ready for that right now."

"I'm not going to tell you what to do--"

"That's a first," I muttered, and she smiled.

"But consider it if he asks. You love him, he loves you, and you're here half the time anyway. It's a big step, but you can't tell me you haven't started thinking long-term with him."

"I'll think about it. If he asks."

With that, we dropped the topic and turned on the tv to local news. The fire was the big story, with three fatalities. It had apparently been set by the S'mores arsonist, now being called the S'mores killer; they'd found the impaled marshmallow out in the alley. Public pressure to catch the perpetrator was at a fever pitch. Confidential sources were reporting that the electricity to the building had been cut off, a new wrinkle.

"That's why there were no smoke alarms," Aslyn said grimly.

My phone rang; the detective told me that he'd passed along our message to Margaret's family; her father had responded that there would be a private memorial service at home for the family.

"So it's up to us, I guess," Aslyn said.

"I just can't deal with that today," I said. She agreed, and after sitting together in silence for a bit, went to her room. I also went to the room I was sharing with Damian and took a look at what he'd gotten for me. I'd already had the things I liked for my showers, grooming products, and makeup here as well as a small selection of clothes. Thank god the pearls were here. He'd gotten me a few more pairs of the black knit pants I liked to wear to work with some pretty colored polos and a couple pairs of the crosstrainers I really liked. I tried them on to be sure the fit was right, then started snapping off the tags. I put things away, then I emailed Cara, Martha, and Bess, telling them the bad news. Then I had to compose myself. I took a nap, not wanting to deal with anything else for a bit. My arm was throbbing and my lungs were itchy and scratchy.

When I woke up, the room was dark and the only illumination came from the open door to the hallway. Damian was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at me. I uncurled from my fetal position and he stroked my hair. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"About as well as can be expected," I mumbled, and started to cry again. He didn't say anything, just gathered me up in his arms and rocked me until I was finished.

"Bucky and Emma are here," he said. "They brought dinner."

"Ok," I said, sitting up, disengaging from him reluctantly. "Let me clean up a bit and I'll be out."

"Take your time, sweet pea," he said.

"What does that mean?" I asked, trying for a smile. "You haven't sent me sweet peas."

"Bliss," he said, "or 'thank you for a good time.' I'm going with bliss."

"I'm hardly bliss," I said.

"You are to me," he said. He touched my cheek. "I'll wait for you." So I went and washed my face, putting in eyedrops that stung. He put his arm around me as we walked down to the living room. Emma and Bucky got up for hugs, then we went to the dining room for soup, a hearty chicken noodle. I poked my head in to see if Aslyn wanted dinner, but she was asleep. We could reheat it for her later. Conversation was general and it was nice to hear things that had nothing to do with the tragedy at the apartment building. They didn't linger long after dinner, though, leaving after telling to call if I needed anything at all.

"I'm glad you're going to be ok," Bucky said gruffly. "I'm sorry about your friend, but I'm glad you made it out. And you still have your other friend. "

"It could have been a lot worse," I sighed, and he nodded.

"It's not much comfort to you now," he admitted, "But it is a big relief to me and the rest of your family."

"Would you like to borrow Sigurd or Torburn?" Emma asked. "I'm sure that either of them would come over if you'd like."

"I appreciate that," I said, hugging her. "But I know Torburn doesn't like to leave the little dogs and Sigurd is a creature of habit. I'll be ok, I have Damian. He's not as fluffy as Torburn or Sigurd, but I can understand what he says." Damian smiled and put his arms around me, snuggling up to my back. Emma grinned, and they left.

Aslyn came out about an hour later and had some soup. "Your uncle is an amazing cook," she said as she ate. "Damian, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your hospitality. I'm going to go home tomorrow, though. My boss told me to take the rest of the week off, so I'm going to go soothe my parents, who are having conniptions."

"It's my pleasure to help," Damian told her. "Let me know if I can do anything else for you." She squeezed his hand briefly and took her soup bowl over to the dishwasher. We watched some tv, then made an early night of it. 

Damian and I snuggled up in bed. "What else can I do for you, sweet pea?" he asked.

"Not a thing, honey," I said. "You've been just perfect."

"Anything for you." He was silent a moment. "I don't want an answer yet, I want you to think it over, but I'd like to ask if you'd move in with me. I know you have housing options and I wasn't going to ask you until your lease was up, but... this has made me realize how empty my life would be without you in it. The tower is probably more secure, but like most hotels and apartment buildings, this hotel is adding layers of security so you'd be safe here too. There are pros and cons I'm sure you'll want to consider."

"I can't afford my share of the rent here," I said after a moment, having debated with myself whether to say anything about it but too tired to pussyfoot around. 

"I'm not trying to buy your affection," he said, "but I can afford it and I would like to be with you. I would like to wake up with you and go to sleep with you and everything in between. I can't get enough of you. I know you like to pay your way, and I know there's a big income gap between us. We can share the other expenses, but I like to be here with you, cuddling in the window seat, sleeping with you here. It's familiar territory, where we've started our love affair. Just take your time and think it over." He kissed me, which was a sufficient distraction.

When I woke up the next morning, I looked out the window. The skies were dull and leaden, threatening rain at any moment. My heart felt the same way, but at the same time I felt a constant presence of light and warmth. I slipped out to make the coffee. Aslyn came out, dressed and packed. She had the first cup then gave me a hug. "I'm going to go home, but I'll give you a call later," she said, and we hugged. As the door to the suite closed behind her, I took coffee into the bedroom. Damian stirred as he caught the scent of the coffee. He moved over, sat up against the headboard, and after handing him his cup, I curled up beside him, leaning against him as we sipped.

"I'll move in with you," I told him. "I want to be with you too."


	11. Shoes drop

When I dragged myself into work, still feeling emotional not only from Margaret's death but my own escape, Doug had grim news. Most of the people who he'd called to reschedule the past two days had not made new appointments. This was bad news. "I explained what happened," he said worriedly. So I called the clients myself, apologizing for the necessity of having to cancel the appointments. I didn't get to talk to many, so I left messages, but I did get one person to reschedule. I put my head in my hands for a moment, praying for strength, then got to work on the genetic analyses. I took a break to go work with Bucky, then returned. I had three clients this afternoon. I had to give myself a stern talking to, trying to avoid panic.

After work, I went down to spend some time with the punching bag and beat down the urge to overreact. But my financial margins were thin. I needed to do something, and fast. As I was cooling down with stretches at the barre, my phone chimed with an incoming Skype request from J. Geeze, I hoped he hadn't done poorly on another grade, he'd melt down.

"Hi, J," I said. He looked tense.

"Hey, Alex. How are you doing?"

I tried to make my smile confident. "It'll get better with time. How are classes?"

"They're good. Learning a lot. That's kind of why I wanted to call." He took a deep breath. "I don't really want to pursue psychiatry, I don't think."

"Ok, so what do you want to do?" I asked blankly, wondering how we'd adjust the business.

"I'm not sure, actually, but I'm leaning toward epidemiology, public health. Maybe toxicology." He bit his lip. "I don't know how to dovetail our interests together. I think you'd better focus on what you want to do." I felt gut punched, a little, both by the rejection of our plan and by a relief that if I sank the business I wouldn't be dooming him too. "Are you mad?"

"I don't know what I feel right now," I said, sitting down.

"Ok." He chewed his lip. "Also, I was wondering if I could get a sample of your DNA. One of my professors is interested in superhuman genetics and I said I'd ask you."

"You told a stranger I have mutations? Damn it, J, you know I don't like to tell people about that!" I said, anger starting to burn. It's true, the only people I told about my mutations were doctors and my closest friends.

"He's not a stranger, he's my professor and a doctor," J argued.

"He's a stranger to me," I said flatly. "I don't know what he wants the data for or what the end game is and I'm not comfortable with people having my genetic information. So no. Additionally, I'm not superhuman. I'm just enhanced." So we had a spat. He thought that if he'd asked for the sample first, I'd have given it, but he was wrong. I didn't like other people having my DNA; I barely trusted Hank with it and I liked Hank.

"I'm surprised," I admitted to Damian when I went home. "This is the first I'd heard that he wasn't all gung ho about psychiatry. It kinda hurts that he's rejected the plan, but I don't want him to do something he doesn't really enjoy. I'm pissed that he as good as promised his professor he could have my DNA. Mutations are hot-button issues right now and who knows what people want to or are doing."

"What do you want to do?" Damian asked, cuddling me close.

"I have no idea now," I confessed. "It was all about how our work could work together. I always pictured us getting one of those partner desks. But I haven't been able to get all my clients to reschedule, so my business might be circling the drain."

"Oh, sweet pea, you've had a few hard days," he said. I felt somewhat comforted by the rumble of his voice in his chest. After I felt better, I made dinner and we curled up on one of the windowseats where we could look at the park occasionally, each of us with a book. After a couple of hours of this, he rummaged in his briefcase and brought out a bar of caramel-filled chocolate, which he fed to me square by square. "Sweet pea, if you were a brand new graduate, if you could go anywhere and do anything, what would you do?"

"I don't know," I mumbled around the chocolate. "It was all about how J and I could work together."

"What grabbed your interest at MIT?"

"In biological engineering, I was really interested in energy; its cutting edge, looking into using bacteria and viruses as a novel energy source. And there are some really exciting bioremediation possibilities as well. But there was also toxicology, looking at how chemicals and biological processes can damage DNA, how this could be assessed in a single cellular high-throughput manner, analyzing the effect of deficiencies in the DNA repairs. Its a crazy intersection of environmental health and biological engineering. Alkylating agents are pretty reliable at damaging DNA, and cancers often result, but there are inquiries into other diseases and inflammation as well." He sat silently a moment.

"You know I didn't understand a word you were saying once you got into the toxicology stuff, right?" he asked ruefully, and rubbed his cheek on my hair before kissing me. "Look, don't panic, is all I'm saying. Even if you run out of money next week, don't panic. You have options. What you're interested in, that we just talked about, isn't something that you can really pursue alone, I'm thinking." I shook my head.

"The days of the citizen scientist being able to work out of their basements is long gone," I said, a touch sadly.

"You sound regretful," he noted, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I am, kind of," I confessed. "That kind of work was all about your personal innovation and ability, what you understood and what you made of your knowledge. You set your goals and parameters, followed what caught your interest. But the lab equipment alone makes that completely impractical these days."

"Rugged individualism," he proclaimed, and I laughed. He smiled. "I know you don't like to rely on other people or take what you would think of as a handout," he said gently. "But we're together, I love and treasure you, and I can certainly afford to support you while you make up your mind what to do next. You have degrees in biological engineering and kinesiology, which gives you a lot of scope. You can brush off your resume and start sending it out, or..." I prompted him with a look. "You could let my dad and Stark fight over you like dogs over a bone." I burst out laughing and he chuckled. "You're going to have to tell them what's going on," he pointed out. "So tell them and give them some time to see what they can come up with. If you want to go with energy, Stark's your man because he's the name in clean energy. Wayne has the medical research apparatus that Stark lacks and you could fit into toxicology there, I bet." He put his arms around me and drew me in tight. "The thing to do now is just to relax. I know you hate the idea of failing at your business, especially after the interest that others have put into it, but to tell the truth, I don't think it really makes the most of what you can do. You compromised for your brother. But now good chunks of the world are open to you. So don't freak out, don't take the first steady paycheck that's offered to you. You've been through so much this week, I don't know why you're not gibbering in the corner, that's where I'd be."

"At this point, I'm just waiting for the next disaster," I muttered. "But ok. I won't do anything precipitous."

"Thank you, sweet pea," he said. "Do you want to go to bed early?" he inquired. "I bet I could get your mind off your problems. Not to brag, or anything, but I do have certain gifts." I chortled and sat up.

"Do your best, honey," I said, and let him pull me to my feet, where he swept me up and carried me down to the bedroom. There are a lot of advantages to being a hero, and one of them is core strength.

He did provide a magnificent distraction, but when he'd fallen asleep, I extracted myself carefully and went down the hall for a good cry. Damian was amazing and wonderful, but I was just feeling overwhelmed and sad and I didn't want him to be upset too. One of us had to keep their head on their shoulders. He's a tremendous problem-solver, but there was only so much he could do for me. I had to get through the emotional stuff myself. I texted Aslyn; she was also up--having trouble sleeping--so we updated. Her advice was similar to Damian's--don't panic, do some research. She provided a second opinion, which I also trusted and could rely on. I felt a little less like the ceiling was going to fall in and crush me, and went back to bed, snuggling up to Damian, and got a pretty good night's sleep for the first time in a few days.

The next day I went in as usual and requested a meeting with Tony and Bruce.


	12. Next steps

As the immediate shock of the apartment fire wore off, depression crept in and it was harder to get up in the morning and drag myself to work. Especially when I knew there wasn't much work to go into. It took several days before Tony and Bruce could meet, so it was excruciating to go to my office. After the first two days of my return, nobody had made appointments. I talked to Doug about it and he went back upstairs, taking the cactus with him. I missed the company but there was no point to having a receptionist anymore. The last thing I had him do for me was to create and print letters and envelopes to my former clients announcing the closing of the business, telling them to contact me to arrange for their records to be sent.

I had signed these letters and had grimly finished stuffing them into the envelopes when my uncle came in, looking around with a faint frown on his face. "Sweetie, where's Doug?" he asked. "What's going on?" and he gestured at the room where equipment was boxed up.

I sighed and told him everything, how my clients had fallen away so quickly, the finances, J deciding against joining me in the business. How depressed I felt.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, perching on the corner of the desk and petting my hair with his metal hand.

"I've got a meeting with Bruce and Tony tomorrow," I said, sighing and blinking to keep the water level in my eyes to a manageable level. "I'll tell them then what's happening and why I'm closing the business. I'm updating my resume; MIT has services for alumnae to help me figure out how to deal with this mess." I succumbed to temptation and put my head down on the cool surface of the desk. The tears started to trickle out, and I was too tired, all of a sudden, to keep fighting to tamp them down. Bucky didn't say anything, just gave me a handkerchief and kept petting my hair. One of his many good qualities is that he's not freaked out by crying females. Probably because he's had to mop me up so often. His handkerchief reminded me that all of mine had gone up in smoke and that was another thing I had to deal with.

"Sweetie, just because your business failed doesn't mean that you're a failure," he counseled. I gave him a look from one bloodshot eye. "I mean it. On paper, there was every reason to think that there would be a demand for your services. New York is pretty much the capital of superheroes and street heroes and there are precious few places they can get help unless they resort to their public identities. You just may be ahead of your time. You did what you could, you refined your business plan, and it just didn't work out. It's not a mess. You've probably been upstairs to the clinic to see if you need anything."

I nodded, then pushed myself upright again. "They said it's normal, and there's no cause for anti-depressants, which is good," I said, pressing on my eyes. The doctors had been very nice and I was glad they weren't in a rush to medicate me. He nodded.

"Why did Jaimez decide against psychiatry?" he asked. "I haven't heard that he was unhappy."

"He said that he's interested in other fields. Public health, maybe toxicology."

"Are you really ok?" he asked me, his blue eyes intent.

"Mostly," I said. "I feel a little rejected, but mostly I feel relieved that I haven't messed up his future too. Now I just have to figure out what to do with myself. But we got into a bit of a fight. He as much as promised one of his professors my DNA sample."

"And you don't know what he wants to do with it, so you're reluctant to give it to him. You've always kept that part of your identity to yourself; I wonder why the boy didn't respect that."

I was grateful that somebody understood without me spelling it out. Insistently. Our parents still didn't quite understand. "It's not anything he has to deal with," I pointed out. "But there's so much work being done on the human genome, and mutations are the hot new thing on the block. I don't like the idea of anybody messing around with my genes." He nodded.

"You want to take a break and go upstairs?" he asked. "Cookies and fur therapy. Sigurd and Torburn came in to work with us today." I brightened up and we went up to Emma's office, where I sat on the floor with the pups while he looked for the cookies. Emma hid them, too many people on the prowl. Sigurd rolled onto his back, waving his paws, as I rubbed his tummy and Torburn put his head on my lap to wait his turn. Emma came in partway through her husband's search, smiled, hopped up on the credenza before pushing aside a ceiling tile to retrieve the cookie jar. Chocolate-frosted vanilla bean cookies. She patted my shoulder and I told her what was going on.

"I've lost businesses too," she said sympathetically. "It's never easy to close up shop, especially when you've been planning and working toward it for so long." Torburn lifted his head and licked my face.

"Well, better now than later," I said practically. "And I'd hate for J to feel like he had to do something he didn't really want to."

Emma and Bucky nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit, sweetie," Bucky said encouragingly. "Now you just have to figure out what your next steps will be. Decide what you want to do." Emma tossed me a bag and I gave the pups some Milk Bones before getting up and sinking into a chair.

"Now, is there anything you need?" Emma asked.

"No, Damian asked me to move in with him," I said, waiting for their reactions.

Bucky made an old-man style grump. "I don't know that I really like the idea of young people living together," he said. "I know it's acceptable and that you certainly don't have to be married, but I've also read that your chances of getting married later are lower if you live together."

"I can't contemplate anything like that right now," I told him wearily.

"I don't want him taking you for granted," he said.

"He doesn't," I said honestly. "He's very solicitous and wants me to be happy. And I am with him."

"Good," Emma said approvingly. "How are you fixed for cash until your renters insurance pays out? I don't want you to worry about money, especially since you're moving onto a new job."

"I'm ok," I said. "I still have some money from the mad money Uncle Bucky gave me for grad school."

"I meant for you to have fun with that," Bucky said sternly.

"And I did," I told him. "I learned how to surf, bought some clothes. But I've been head down in something or other pretty constantly. And that was fun too. I like to learn." I dropped my head back on the chair. "Most of my personal stuff like my yearbooks from high school is at mom and dad's; I lost my clothes, some personal stuff, the diamond earrings I got for graduation," I said sadly. "But my diplomas are here, my textbooks and notes, and I'd accidentally left my pendant at Damian's, so it's safe too. I tripped over my messenger bag when I got up, so I just took that with me and I still have my wallet, ID, and cell phone. And the bag, happily. Could have been a lot worse." Emma nodded, and turned the conversation a little and I asked about what she was doing these days. That proved to be a very interesting conversational path, and we chatted about that for awhile. Finally I stood up and thanked her for the cookies and conversation, kissed each dog's forehead, and went to give my uncle a hug.

"You going home, sweetie?" I nodded. "I'll walk you down." It was still only early afternoon, a lot earlier than I usually went home. In the elevator, he handed me an envelope. "It's just a little something to tide you over," he said. "Don't open it now, but you need some money of your own and I know you won't ask for any."

"When--"

"I nipped down to the bank when you were talking with Emma about the new engines she's working on," he said, pleased with himself. Good. There's a limit to what he can withdraw with his ATM card.

"You're too generous," I said, leaning against him for a moment.

"You're my family," he said firmly. "You and your brother will get the money in the end, anyway, so you should have some now, while I can watch you enjoy it. Or when it can really do some good," he corrected himself. "I appreciate your work ethic, your determination to make your own success. You're a lot like Georgie, he never wanted to be given things either. But when you're in need, there's nothing wrong with asking for help from your family." He kissed my temple just before the door opened on the lobby. He walked me to the door, and I kissed his cheek. "Come find me after your meeting tomorrow, tell me what happens," he requested, and I nodded.

I went to Macys on my way home. I needed some business clothes and underthings. And hankies. I was in a dressing cubicle, trying on a rich plum suit with an A-line skirt and close-fitting jacket before I thought to open the envelope Uncle Bucky had given me. I nearly fell over when I took out a stack of bills. Benjamin Franklin gazed up at me calmly. Five thousand dollars.

Holy smokes. Well, I'd be able to afford a couple of suits and some lingerie, no problem.

I walked out of the store with the plum suit and a black one, suitable shoes, a couple of blouses, a pair of black wool trousers, lingerie, a couple of sports bras, socks, hose, and handkerchiefs. I'd also picked up some perfume, skincare, and cosmetics; I hadn't bothered to replace that stuff yet. There had been a good sale, so I hadn't even dented the money stack too much. I did splurge and took a taxi home. In the suite, I tucked the envelope in the room safe and started taking off tags and opening boxes. I'd have to be in really dire straits to not enjoy the fun of hanging up new clothes and playing with new cosmetics. I put in a load of laundry--the suite had a top-of-the-line washing machine that washed my delicates more delicately than I did--and stretched before I took a bath to relax. My muscles were tight with tension and grief.

I woke up disoriented in the gathering dark. "Sweet pea?" Damian called out.

"In the bathroom," I replied, sitting up in the lukewarm water and rubbing my eyes. He came in, flicked the switch, and I took a moment just to enjoy the sight of him in his perfectly-cut suit, knowing the delights underneath. He smiled at me, then came over to kiss me. I stood up, water sheeting off my skin, and he took a moment to look at me with appreciation, skimming his fingers over my collarbone.

"So beautiful," he said breathlessly, then handed me a towel before holding my robe for me. "You're chilly. Wanna warm up?" he asked, eyes sparkling. After we made love, he cuddled me close and asked how my day went. I told him briefly, then asked about his. He had a couple of interesting stories, then we got up and he insisted on making me dinner. "I like to do things for you," he said, when I protested. "You've been through the wringer and I like to dote on you. It's new for me," he said, suddenly shy. Peeking at me through his thick black lashes, he watched me. "I've never cooked for a woman before. I'm trying to show you that I'm a good catch, the right man for you. I want you to feel you've made a good choice, moving in with me."

I walked over to him and put my arms around him. "I know I've made the best choice," I said simply. "I'm not sure what you see in me, besides the outstanding sex, but I'm just glad you do. You don't have to try so hard."

I can almost feel his eye roll. "Incendiary sex aside, you were nice to me when I didn't deserve it, my friend when I didn't want one, smart, funny, so capable. You're not overawed by my dad, you're not trying to see what you can get out of me. You accept who I am, flaws and all. You let me love you." His hands tightened on mine. "You're the perfect woman for me." And he turned to kiss me, hugging me gently, before releasing me and patting my butt. "You can set the table," he offered, and I grinned and hopped to.

After dinner, Aslyn called and we hashed out a time and date for a memorial service for Margaret and divided up responsibilities. Then we chatted a bit; she was sorry to hear about the business and J, but pointed out that now I had the opportunity to do whatever I wanted to. We arranged to have lunch in a couple of days and I cuddled up with Damian, who offered to get the photograph of Margaret blown up and printed for me. I knew the one I wanted to use; it wasn't a formal portrait but a candid I'd taken freshman year. She loved class so much; every time she raised her hand her face just lit up. I sent it from my phone and he studied it.

"It really shows her enthusiasm, her love of learning," he said, snuggling closer. I relaxed against him as I called the MIT club to make arrangements to hold her service there, then called Cara, Bess, and Martha to let them know. They said they'd be there and glad that we'd be at the clubhouse since we weren't going to do this at actual MIT.

"I miss it, though," Cara said wistfully. She was coming to the end of her PhD program at the University of Michigan.

"I don't miss the winters," said Martha, enjoying the sunshine at the California Institute of Technology, also working on a PhD, but in astrophysics.

"I miss you guys," I said, and they all agreed with me. After we all hung up, I called Emma and asked if she'd meet with my friend Bess as a treat for her, and Emma was happy to talk shop. "I don't know any nuclear engineers or astrophysicists," I sighed.

"Wayne Enterprises has a group working on thorium reactors," Damian volunteered. "Want to see if I can't set up a meeting?"

This kind of thing is part of the reason why I love him.

I ordered some flowers for the service and sent an email about the memorial service to Vanilla; I didn't have his phone number and didn't want to find it. Cara and Bess were going to arrange the refreshments, and Martha was going to contact people for photographs of Margaret that we could use in a tribute video. She was also going to contact Margaret's faculty advisor at MIT; she'd been an author on a paper they'd written at MIT and stayed in touch after graduation. I was going to contact her workplace at the city and come up with a playlist of music she liked. Then Aslyn called back and suggested we change it from a memorial service to a life celebration. I liked that and thought that Margaret would have approved as well.

It was a horrible thing to do, to have to plan a celebration of life for someone who'd just really started hers, but it was the last thing we could really do for her. I shot out an email and suggested we ask for contributions to MIT's scholarship funds in lieu of flowers, and this was enthusiastically approved. Nobody wanted to release anything; balloons were harmful to the environment and creatures like doves and butterflies probably wouldn't live long in the city. "Plus there are enough pigeons," Aslyn noted succinctly, making me smile. Damian scrolled through ideas on his phone and suggested getting pocket charms for attendees, little pewter hearts that came in organza bags and a card with a saying printed on it. We liked that idea and he offered to do that as well. We wanted to wait until we had a list of attendees before asking people to speak--we didn't want it to be just us--and then we were about as planned as we could get for now. I went to bed feeling satisfied at our progress and also guiltily grateful I'd had something else to focus on rather than my own stupid mess.

The next day, when Damian dropped me off at the tower, I was dressed for the meeting in my new black suit and I'd bothered with makeup and a nicer hairstyle than the ponytail I usually wore to work. I double checked everything downstairs to make sure I hadn't left any personal items behind, then went upstairs. I was early, but both Bruce and Tony had beat me there. Tony raised an eyebrow at my attire as they stood for me, then we sat. There wasn't much point to pleasantries, so I just told them about J's decision, what had happened to my business, and why I was shutting it down. The men sat in silence as they contemplated this.

"What are you going to be doing now?" Bruce asked.

"Polishing my resume," I said, managing a small smile.

"Don't do anything too suddenly," Tony said. "Give me some time to think about this, think about where I can best use you in the business, and I'll make you an offer."

Bruce scowled at him. "What industries do you think you'd like to work in?" he asked me.

"I think I want to go back to biological engineering. In school I was interested in genetic applications or in energy."

"Well, Wayne Enterprises has a medical division," he suggested. This time it was Tony who scowled at him. "Give us a few days, then let's meet again and review some proposals." Tony reluctantly agreed, and I thanked them for their consideration.

"Take a few days off," Tony said, studying me. "You look terrible. A couple of days off isn't enough to bounce back from that fire."

"I hate to admit it," Bruce said, "but you do look run down. Is Damian taking care of you?"

I smiled. "I couldn't ask for more." Bruce sat back, smirking slightly in satisfaction, and Tony looked nettled at this reminder of my personal connection with his rival.

The next day I slept in, and Alfred showed up around noon with a big pot of turkey noodle soup, packed with vegetables and accompanied by baguettes still slightly warm from the oven. A pattern of sleeping in was quickly established, my only responsibility was going to class, and not being around people made me feel like I could cry when I needed to without upsetting anyone else. It helped a lot, and I was gradually able to relax and work through the incidents. By the time I got a call from Tony to set up a meeting, I'd gotten through the trauma of the fire and Margaret's death, the worst of the survivor's guilt, and J and I were speaking again although he still didn't really understand why I wouldn't give the sample. Well, he was a bright guy, he could figure it out eventually. Damian continued to spoil me. It made him happy to give me a flower here and there, a couple of exotic chocolates, texts that just said 'Thinking of you.' And I liked him to be happy and it was fun to get the little treats as long as they weren't too extravagant. I spoiled him too with massages and dinners; he wasn't much for receiving flowers himself but I sent him apple blossoms--good fortune-- when he closed a big deal for his company.

I felt considerably better when I went in for the second meeting. Bruce went first and outlined a job centering on toxicology. It sounded really good, investigating how chemicals affect DNA mutations. It would be in the same building where I worked in high school--I could pop down to say hi to Dr Reynaud periodically, and I could go into work with Damian in the morning. Tony had tricks up his own sleeve, though.

"I'm offering you an opportunity in energy," he said briskly. "I'm kind of the big name in novel energy sources these days, and I want to move beyond the arc reactors; they require hard-to-find metals that are problematic to mine and process, environmentally speaking. I'd like to research the use of bacteria, which are abundant and can be non-harmful to humans. The bacteria themselves won't generate enough power, but I'm looking at them as a step in a process, possibly genetically modified. Also alternative applications, such as bioremediation--SuperFund sites could use something easy and non-damaging in itself as a solution.

"And there's another job I'd like you to consider. Your uncle isn't getting any younger, and he's been making some noise about retiring, but there's nobody in the Avengers who could take over his responsibilities teaching hand to hand. We can outsource the weapons training, but there's nobody better than Barnes. You're by far his finest student, and part of that is because you're not distracted by superhuman powers but your enhancements let you hang in there with the best of them. So my offer is a few hours each day training Avengers, then the rest of the day working on energy sources that would be relatively cheap and easy to make and safely operate."

"Is Bucky on board with this?" was all I could think to say.

"I've told him that I'm running down a replacement, and he's cautiously optimistic," Tony said crisply. "He'd be thrilled to know it's you. Guy doesn't talk much, but he likes to tell anybody who'll listen that you took out Thor and held your own with Wolverine."

"You did?" Bruce asked, surprised. I nodded.

"It should be noted that my main effect on Wolverine was to piss him off," I said dryly.

"Still," Tony said. "He lost his temper because he wasn't able to beat you. And you've gotten better since then."

Bruce mentioned the name of an internationally-recognized expert I'd be working with if I accepted his offer. 

"You'd be working with me," Tony said, looking a touch nervous, knowing this isn't a huge point in his favor. "I've been working on this when I have the time, got a setup on the floor under the robotics lab. It would be primarily your lab. Once you get going we can get some grad students in to help, get some interns or lab assistants. I have also been learning how to deal with my anxiety issues in a more effective way." He slid an envelope across the table to him. It was a letter from Colonel Rhodes, which stated that Tony'd been working on his anxiety issues and he hadn't had an episode like the one that blew up my first tenure at Stark Tech for more than four years. The second sheet was the authority to lock Tony out of the lab if he relapsed until such a time as a solution could be mediated which could include removal of Tony from the energy program if necessary. It was signed by Tony, witnessed, and notarized. I blinked.

Bruce quoted a salary and the benefits that Wayne Enterprises offered. I gulped. Tony countered with a salary of his own, listed the major benefits, and said that the company would pay membership fees in relevant scientific organizations and societies. Bruce indicated that he'd match that. Then it was time to decide which offer to accept. I could have asked for time to consider, but it wasn't necessary. I knew which one I'd accept.


	13. New job

"Thank you both for the incredibly generous offers," I said. "I wish I could take them both. But I'm going to accept Tony's offer, Bruce," I said, and he nodded.

"It's a loss for my company," he said nicely, "but I can see why you'd want to work here. The opportunity to learn more from your uncle must be very attractive, take over from him eventually."

"Carrying that on is very appealing," I admitted, and he gave me a rare smile.

"Can you and Damian come for dinner this weekend?" he asked. "We haven't seen much of either of you lately."

"I'm sure we can," I said. "Thank you."

"If working here doesn't pan out again," Bruce said provokingly, "let me know. I'll always be open to working with you, Alex." We grinned at each other as Tony sputtered a bit, then Bruce got up to go, patting me on the shoulder as he passed by. After he passed through the doors, Tony turned to me.

"Take a couple weeks off, Barnes. I won't be ready for you til then. Then come back ready to work." He slid a folder over to me. "Sign these and it'll be official." He waited, not so patiently, as I thoroughly perused each page, signing and dating and initialing as I went. I handed him back the completed paperwork and he bounced up. "Great. Let's go." I followed as we went down to HR to have my badge access in the tower upgraded and the paperwork turned in. I thought he'd turn me loose after that, but we went downstairs to the training rooms. "I'm going to continue the clinic down here, make sort of a substation in your old offices for the street heroes," he said. That way they can still get treatment when they need it and we'll have a second facility for crisis events." I nodded, glad that the street heroes would be taken care of.

The elevator doors opened on an interesting scene. As I watched, Kate hopped off the regular treadmill to join the crowd around Bucky and Pietro. My uncle looked exasperated, if you knew what to look for, and Pietro looked mulish. It seemed they were clashing again over his training. Wanda was trying to get her twin to see reason, but he wasn't having it. Everybody turned as Tony strode up. He just looked at Pietro and shook his head. "You get the snot beat out of you, it'll be your own fault," he said crisply, then addressed Bucky.

"I've found somebody you can train to take over for you when you've had enough," he said, and Bucky brightened.

"That might be sooner rather than later," he said, shooting a look at Pietro. Then he saw me and came over for a hug. "Hi, sweetie, get things settled?"

"Yep," I said, smiling at him. "I'll be working upstairs researching novel energy sources, but a few hours each day down here. I'm going to be your replacement eventually." He hugged me again.

"That's a huge relief," he said, letting me go. "I know the program will be in good hands when I'm done, sweetie." We beamed at each other. Then he dumped me in it. "What do you think of Maximoff's refusal to learn self-defense, preferring to rely on his superspeed?"

Thanks, Uncle Bucky. "I think it betrays an inability to focus or the lack of enough self-discipline to learn." Pietro looked furious; I looked at him calmly. "The easiest way to take out a speedster is to attack the legs. If one or both legs is injured, just how would you keep yourself alive?" I asked him. His sister looked worried, glancing between the two of us. He looked at her and deflated.

"I can learn if I want," he insisted.

"Do you?" I challenged, and he looked rebellious, but his sister poked him.

"Yes," he muttered.

I walked over and put out my hand. He started to extend his, but I did a leg sweep to put him on his back and positioned the heel of my pump just above his knee, where one of the quadriceps attaches to the bone, and pressed hard enough for him to feel it. "You see, you weren't expecting an attack and it wouldn't be hard at all for me to injure you in such a way that your ability to access your speed would be very limited. Do you understand why you need some training?"

He grabbed at my ankle in an effort to knock me off balance, but I was expecting retaliation and shook off his hand easily, ending with the heel over his jugular. He sighed and conceded, and I stepped back. I pivoted swiftly and deflected my uncle's attack. "This is someone who takes her training seriously," Bucky told Pietro, giving him a hand up. "And while nobody's perfect--you can't be aware twenty-four hours a day and ready for an attack from any direction--she has learned to keep herself attuned to indicators of an incoming attack. Sound, certainly, but also things like changes of airflow, shadows, even just a feeling that something is off. She is skilled enough to put up a hell of a fight when she is taken off guard, and that makes her a difficult and dangerous opponent. And she'll get better, so by the time she's ready to take over, you can be sure that you'll be getting the best quality instruction."

"What makes her so good?" Wanda asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Physically, she's suited for it," my uncle said after a moment of assessment. "She is very coordinated and has fast reactions. She's a natural athlete. But equally important is her attitude. She has determination and the ability to focus. She originally started working with me for self-defense against a boy at her school who was harassing her and it grew into a replacement activity when she gave up ballet. It's fun for her, which makes it easier for her to persist. And look at her now. Even in street clothes, in high heels, she is unimpaired and ready to act."

"I also have been targeted because of who I know," I said, deliberately vague. "And I put my attacker in a coma. So it's not just a matter of me being suited for it or enjoying it. It has literally saved me. If you've ever been a victim, you know what drives me." The room was silent.

"Ok," Pietro said. "When do we start?"

"I won't be ready for you upstairs for a couple weeks," Tony jumped in, addressing me. "But if you want to start down here sooner, go ahead."

We made arrangements for me to start downstairs the next day. I knew I still had a lot to learn, and I had to learn how to teach. I'd worked fine with Sif, because we got along well and she was far from a novice herself, but I'd need to teach everyone to the best of my abilities, even people I didn't like. Which meant no more beating up of deserving Asgardians, probably, unless I could package it as an exhibition.

Tony and Bucky came up with me to the outside door. "Congratulations on your new job, sweetie," my uncle said, kissing my forehead. "I'm proud of you. And I'm relieved that you'll be taking over the training program from me in time. I'll be leaving it in the best hands."

"I'm just doing the hand-to-hand program," I said, and Tony nodded.

"It'll be easier to find a weapons master," he said, and Bucky agreed.

"Alex!" I heard, and turned to see Aslyn waving to me from the by the elevator. She hustled over and we hugged briefly.

"You know my uncle, don't you?" I asked. "Anyway, Aslyn, this my uncle, Bucky Barnes, and of course you know Tony Stark." She rolled her eyes at me slightly and smiled, shaking Bucky's hand.

"I'm sorry for the loss of your friend," Bucky said gently to her. Bucky is sweet now that he's not killing people anymore, but sometimes it's hard for some to get over his past.

"Thank you," Aslyn said.

"You work for me in... IT," tony said, narrowing his eyes slightly as he concentrated. "Security."

"That's right," Aslyn said, surprised.

"I heard you did good work with that attack from Russia," he said, and she smiled. It's always nice to be recognized for your accomplishments.

"See you tomorrow, sweetie," Bucky said to me. "Nice to meet you, Aslyn," he said to her, and he and Tony strolled toward the elevator.

"Do you have time for an early lunch?" Aslyn asked me. "I was at a good stopping place at work."

So we went to lunch, where I told her about my new jobs. "I was worried," she admitted, looking really relieved. "The fire and Margaret, your business...it was a lot to deal with. So now you have a couple of weeks where you don't have to worry about anything, you can really relax." She poked me. "Too bad your boyfriend has to work." I laughed.

We chatted, getting caught up, not mentioning the memorial service or anything sad. It felt like things were finally getting back to normal. A new normal, anyway. After lunch, I texted Damian my news, along with the notice that we were going to his dad's for dinner this weekend, then hit the stores. I'd need more suits for my upstairs work, but I had a couple of weeks and didn't have to settle for things I liked ok but didn't love because I was in a rush. I came home with an asymmetric jacket and a blue and white cotton/silk skirt that would be nice for the summer. I wasn't going to want to wear the heavier wool suits I'd just bought in the heat. Ug, seasons.

When I got home, there was a big bouquet of lush blooming roses in pale pastels. The card indicated that the message was that the roses should be in a crown, but it would have taken too much time. I looked up a crown of roses, symbol of superior merit, and smiled. I texted him--I hated to call while he was at work in case he was doing something important--and put the bouquet, beautiful in a cut-glass vase, in the bedroom where its heady perfume could concentrate better. Then I called my parents, leaving a message for my mom and talking to my dad. He sounded relieved too, glad that I'd gotten another job so quickly and pleased that I was going to like it as much as I thought I would. I texted J, feeling real relief because I was feeling like this was going to suit me a whole lot better than our plans would have. I spent the rest of the afternoon researching professional organizations that would be helpful. Since we were out on the cutting edge, I decided to incorporate organizations that would cover parts of the whole, and selected the American Society for Microbiology, the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and the American Chemical Society. I also sent in my alumni dues for Phi Beta Kappa, Tau Beta Phi, an engineering honor society, and Sigma Xi, the scientific research honor society, which I'd joined at MIT. Then I shut off the computer, prepared dinner for that evening--pounding chicken breasts flat, adding cheese and a slice of ham and rolling it up for a version of chicken cordon bleu, then picked up a book. I loved the public library here, and my favorite librarian from high school still worked there as head of circulation. 

I was deep into a new cozy mystery when I heard the lock in the door and looked up, smiling, to see my handsome boyfriend removing his coat and setting down his briefcase. I crossed to him for a welcome-home kiss and snuggle, then popped the chicken and some small potatoes in the oven to cook. We'd also have asparagus, but roasting that didn't take much time. Damian mixed cocktails while dinner roasted, and we talked about our days, mostly my new job. "Dad really wanted you to come work with us, but he understood why you took the job with Stark, especially considering that you'll be working with your uncle. Family's important." He stroked my hair as I cuddled up to him.

"Well, Tony's also made it clear that he's gotten help for his anxiety problem and I have full authorization to lock him out of the lab if he regresses, so I think it will work. And once I really started to consider it, I'm not as in favor of working on mutations as I used to be. I'm honestly wary about the outcome of that kind of research. I worry that somebody could have mutations induced against their will, or have the ones they have taken away. I've gotten used to mine, and I'd miss them if they were gone."

"I understand," he said, kissing me lightly. "And Dad was really pleased that you accepted his dinner invitation."

"Should I have invited him and Alfred here sooner?" I asked, startled. "I didn't even think about it--"

"Relax, sweet pea. Me having a girlfriend who is this important to me is new to us too. I told Dad I didn't want you to get spooked, so he's been keeping a distance. But they're interested in getting to know you better now."

"I don't want to offend anybody."

"He's not, though Alfred was fussing the other day when he came over with the soup. He thought you looked peaky." I smiled, then a new thought hit me.

"What do I wear to dinner with your family in a mansion?" I asked, serious although I used a light tone.

"Dress?" he seemed baffled too. "I'll be wearing a suit..." Then he rubbed my side gently. "Let's go shopping Saturday."

And we did. We went to several stores where I found a suitable dress as well as a couple of dresses I could wear to work with jackets or cardigans, and since they were putting out summery clothes, a couple of sundresses too. Damian insisted on paying, saying he was having a great time. He certainly was; he had excellent taste and opinions on everything I tried on. Since our opinions mostly coincided, we both had fun. I let him pay this time, but we were going to have a conversation in the near future about that. Now that I had a very well-paying job, I wanted to take care of my needs myself. I got a couple of pairs of shoes and a nice clutch, then he took me to one last store, high-end lingerie. It apparently wasn't unusual for gentlemen to come in with their ladies as there were a couple of dressing rooms fitted up in two parts; a cubby for changing and an exterior cubby where the man could wait to be dazzled. That was also fun and when we got home I modeled some very sexy Agent Provocateur pieces that I hadn't let him see, and we finished just in time to get ready for dinner.

Dinner was delicious--Alfred had gone all-out and done a standing rib roast and there was a bakery-worthy custard tart for dessert, crowned in delectable fruits. After dinner we adjourned to the library; Damian had to take an unexpected business call, but Bruce showed me how he'd organized the library and we walked along the shelves, discussing our favorite books and ones we didn't like. He pulled a couple of history books off the shelves for me to borrow, and shortly after Alfred joined us, Damian came back. He needed to discuss the call with his father, so Alfred took me down to the bat cave to show me a couple of new things in the medical suite. Now that I had my paramedic certification, I was much better situated to appreciate the complex engineering and diagnostic capabilities. Just before we went back upstairs, he gave me a portable tissue accelerator for the suite. As we passed back by Batman's enormous console, a bat fluttered past, making me gasp at the unexpected flight. It landed on a perch at the end of the console. That was new. Alfred smiled and picked up a toothbrush, gently grooming the little bat's fur. It seemed to like the attention.

"I found this one last year, just a pup with a damaged wing," Alfred explained. "So I fixed it, but he's remained fond of us and very much enjoys his groomings." I smiled. It was a cute little thing.

"How long do bats live?" I asked, moving a little closer, but the little bat seemed nervous, so I stopped.

"Up to thirty years," Alfred said, finishing up with the tail. "They've just come out of hibernation."

"I didn't know bats hibernated."

"I don't know about all bats, but these ones do," Alfred said, putting the toothbrush down. The little bat chittered, drank some water from a saucer, and flew off. "This is a good place for bats; they hibernate in the cave and roost here the rest of the year. There's a little pond not far away on the property. It's fairly swampy and there are a lot of insects by it that the bats enjoy, so they stay close. Master Bruce likes the colony."

We went back upstairs and I set the accelerator by the door. We returned to the library, and Alfred brought in coffee. After talking more, Damian kissed me and said that he needed to go out that night.

"Ok," I said. "Alfred just gave me a portable tissue accelerator to take home. Be careful, I'd rather not use it tonight." He grinned at me.

"I'll try not to," he said, then gave me his keys.

"I could also drive Miss Alex home," Alfred volunteered.

"I wasn't planning on coming back out here," Damian said, and after I finished my coffee, all three men escorted me to the door. I think Alfred felt his rights as butler were being stepped on, as he walked quickly and got to the door first.

"Thank you for dinner," I said to Bruce, who smiled slightly.

"I enjoyed it as well," he said, surprising me with a peck on the cheek. "I look forward to the next time I can lure you both back out."

"Thank you," I said to Alfred as he held the door. "Dinner was delicious." I surprised him with a peck on the cheek.

"My pleasure, Miss Alex," he said. Damian picked up the accelerator and escorted me to his car.

"I'll see you at home, sweet pea," he murmured in my ear. He kissed me and closed the door; I waited until he moved away before starting the car and pulling down the long drive. I enjoyed driving his car a lot more when he wasn't in the passenger seat, bloody and beaten. It didn't take long to get back into the city and I reflected that if things continued to go well between Damian and me, invitations to Bruce's mansion would continue and it might be a good idea to get a car of my own. Especially now that I had a good job, I could save the down payment. I'd have to be crafty, though, keeping it to myself so that Damian didn't feel obligated to get one for me. I parked the car in the garage and ambled into the hotel, plotting. As I crossed the lobby, a tall, beautiful woman intercepted me and placed her hand on my arm. I looked at her and stepped away, making her hand fall to her side.

"I did not mean to offend you," she said in a cool alto. "I merely wanted to meet the... girlfriend of my son. Since you've ingratiated yourself with his father."

I looked at her calmly. "And you are...?"

"Talia al Ghul," she said, a little impatiently. "Ibn al Xu'ffasch is my son." I crooked an eyebrow. "Has he not told you his true name? Then you know him as Damian Wayne."

"Does Damian know you're in town?" I asked.

"Not yet, but he will when you tell him. Tell him I look forward to... what's the phrase... catching up with him." I watched as she pivoted on her heels and sauntered out the door. I had the sense that she had come alone, but I couldn't be sure. I took the elevator partway up and took the stairs the rest of the way, wishing for the first time that the suite wasn't farther down. The accelerator was heavy. I put the equipment away, then went to the safe where I knew Damian kept a bug detector. The suite was clean, and nothing was out of place. Nevertheless, I called Alfred.

"Good evening, Miss Alex," he said.

"Good evening, Alfred. I just have a quick question."

"Go ahead, miss," he said encouragingly.

"Do Bruce and Damian know that Talia al Ghul is in town?"

There was a sizeable silence on the other end. "I do not believe so," he said slowly. "How do you know?"

"She approached me downstairs," I said. "She told me that she wanted to meet her son's girlfriend since I've already met Bruce and that she looked forward to catching up with Damian. She called him Ibn al.... something."

"It means 'Son of the Bat,'" Alfred sniffed. "Unoriginal. I will communicate this information to Master Bruce and Master Damian. Do not leave the suite until Master Damian returns and briefs you on his maternal parent, please."

"OK. Thanks, Alfred," I said; he said good night and hung up. I changed out of my dress into yoga pants, a t shirt, and hoody, pulled all the draperies, and waited as Alfred had asked.


	14. The backstory

I opened my eyes, realizing that I'd fallen asleep waiting for Damian to return. The first edition of "Anti-Intellectualism in American Life," a Pulitzer Prize winner in the 60's, had fallen to the floor. I had picked it up and was checking it for damage when I realized I was not alone. I turned my head and Robin and Batman entered the living room from the dark hallway. I flushed, hoping Bruce hadn't seen that I'd treated the book he'd lent me carelessly.

"I didn't hear the lock open," I said, a half-apology.

"We didn't use the door," Damian said, coming in and sitting beside me. His costume was chilly. "There's a hidden stairwell, an old staircase the maids used to use when the hotel was newly built. It's been blocked off but not demolished. I use that to come home." Bruce shot him an annoyed glance.

"Your home is the mansion," he said crisply, and Damian rolled his eyes before taking off his domino.

"Has my mother tried to contact you again?" he asked me, putting his arm around me.

"No, not after she approached me in the lobby. I swept the apartment for bugs when I got here and it doesn't look like anybody's been in here." I leaned against his shoulder.

"I'm going to go have a chat with her," Bruce said grimly.

"You know where she is?" Damian asked, and Bruce shook his head.

"Not for certain, but I have a pretty good idea of where she'll be staying." He didn't elaborate. "Tell us if Talia approaches you again," he said to me. "Don't let her touch you or get you alone in a secluded space if you can help it. She'll view you as impediment to be swept aside, and she's not too picky about how she accomplishes that." He nodded at us and disappeared back into the hall. Listening carefully, I heard the whisper of movement and a faint click.

"I'll show you later," Damian promised, playing with my hair. "But first, I need to tell you about my mother and her father, where I came from. It's not a nice story," he said warningly, and I nodded.

"So I'm here as a result of an affair Bruce had with Talia. According to my mother, it was quite the passionate fling," he said grimacing, and I repressed a smile. Nobody likes to hear about their parents getting it on. "But I wasn't created until the end of the affair, when Talia drugged Bruce and, um, manually.... uh, collected his semen." I interpreted this to mean she'd given him a handjob and collected it into a cup. "There was an in-vitro fertilization and the blastocyst was popped into an artificial gestation chamber, from which I was decanted nine months later." He looked a little forlorn. "She said she cleaned up my genes before the fertilization and that she hadn't wanted to ruin her figure with a pregnancy." I scowled. "Dad doesn't know about that part. You're the only other than Mother and Grandfather who does." I touched his cheek gently. "I was raised to be the heir to my grandfather's terrorist organization, the League of Assassins. I was trained in martial arts since I could walk, pretty much. Not surprisingly, in that environment, I was manipulative, malicious, spoiled, violent. I had no idea what social mores were. When I was ten, Mother gave me a name, told me I was now Damian Wayne, heir to the Wayne fortune and business, son of Batman, which is what I was called until then."

"Ibn al Xu'ffasch?" I asked, stumbling on the name a little, and he nodded. 

"And she brought me to the mansion, rang the bell, and left me on the porch." He shook his head. "Integration with Bruce, Alfred, the others in the Bat family was difficult," he said wearily.

"Bat family?"

"There's Batman, Dick, who was the original Robin, now he goes by Nightwing, Barbara Gordon, she's Batgirl--"

"Barbara Gordon? The librarian?" I gasped, and he nodded, smiling faintly.

"She's Commissioner Gordon's daughter." The smile dropped off. "You have some history in common. Both of you were victims of the Joker. He shot her through the spine and her legs were paralyzed for a few years before an experimental treatment. During that time she was known as Oracle. She's amazing with computers, there isn't much she can't hack. Then after Dick went away to college, the next Robin was Jason Todd. Jason's mother was blackmailed by the Joker, and she set up her son." He drew a deep breath. "The Joker beat Jason almost to death with a crowbar, pretty much just laid him at death's doorstep. Then he set off a bomb in the warehouse and Bruce couldn't save either mother or son. There's this thing called a Lazarus pit. It can resurrect the dead. Somehow my mother got involved in this--I'm still not entirely clear how, but I think the Joker was working with my grandfather at the time--and Jason was brought back to life. You met him after the incident in the garage." My eyes got big as I remembered the man at Damian's bedside.

"It was a bad experience for both Dad and him, I understand. Dad went completely off the rails for awhile. Jason turned into Red Hood, an anti hero rather than a superhero," he shrugged. "Unlike Dad and Dick, he'll kill. They've kind of patched things up, but Jason tends to keep himself separate. Then there's Tim Drake; he's not as good a fighter as Dick or Dad or me, but he's better than Jason. He figured out who Batman and Nightwing were by observation, and became Red Robin. We didn't get along too well. But he was killed by drones. Then there's me." He sighed. "Also, Dad's been dead too. It's hazardous being in the family." His voice was a warning. I run this through my mind a bit. "And...I've been dead too."

"Holy shit," I blurt out. "I need some context for this. What happened after you were dumped on Bruce?"

"Fought a lot with the family, mostly. I was a complete snot. By the time we met, I'd actually improved quite a lot, believe it or not." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "My relationship with my dad was pretty rocky for several years. He'd had no idea I existed until I turned up, and he was dealing with a lot, what with Jason and Tim and all. Then he decided to be a better dad, keeping me on as Robin, even though I killed somebody right in front of him." I looked inquisitive, and he pressed on. "It was a villain called Nobody. So gradually Dad and I built a relationship, but I was killed by a villain called Heretic. Dad went through a lot to get me resurrected. That wasn't long before we met. It was...very unpleasant. So that's Dad's side of the story. Mom and Granddad's is more straightforward. I was supposed to get tight with my father then turn over control of his money and business to them and eventually take over the League of Assassins. I won't do it, and occasionally they remind me where I came from, try to get me back in line, like that incident in the parking garage."

He draws back so we're sitting looking at each other. "My line of work is very hazardous," he says bluntly, and I nod. I see this clearly. "Dad could be killed at any time. I might be too, and this time there wouldn't be any resurrection. The last Lazarus pit has been destroyed, so dead really will mean dead. The Joker is the greatest of my family's enemies, but he's far from the only one, and they wouldn't hesitate to hurt anybody close to me. Further, if I get married and have kids, I would give them the opportunity to join the shadow side of the family business too. It's a trust. Gotham needs its protectors, and we're it. It would be a hard life for anyone who chose to share it with me," he says intently. "And this is why I don't take the money or power that the Wayne family has as seriously as most would, because it's the Bat family that is in many ways more important. I don't care about the rent on the suite or the costs of buying you things, because just by being with me you're endangering yourself. It's not payment, but... kind of a balancing of the scales for the risk. To your life, your safety, your love. I'll give you all I have, but that includes Robin along with Damian, and one day I'll be Batman. And now that the stakes have been upped by my mother's appearance, I need you to know just what you're getting yourself into if you stay with me."

"If your mother chose to attack, how would she do it?" I asked after thinking things over.

"She wouldn't unless she doesn't have a choice, she prefers to get others to do her dirty work. She's a good fighter, skilled in martial arts and hand to hand. She was my first teacher," he said, and there's no loyalty or pride in his voice. "She's very intelligent, but her loyalty is to her father. She still has some feelings for Bruce and will help him out from time to time, but she won't cross her father. Ra's is a different matter. He'll attack with any means he has, and that includes biological warfare. He's quite old, having used the Lazarus pits for centuries, quite wealthy, and criminally very well-connected internationally. He's extremely intelligent and has had all that time to practice martial arts, with and without weapons. He's very formidable, but with the destruction of the pits, he's starting to look at the end of his lifespan." Damian's voice was grimly pleased. "He heads the League of Assassins and there will be quite a power struggle when he dies. It might just end up consuming the organization."

"Do you love your mom or grandfather?" I asked.

"No," he said without hesitation. "They've made my life hell, and I look forward to the day when neither of them walks the earth." He exhaled. "Alex, I need for you to really think about this and what it means for you. You're loyal and you love me, but continuing with me... is not safe or really even sane. I need you to contemplate the risks you'd be running. Since we've been together, criminal activity has been unusually light, but that won't last, and I'll be beat up a lot, sometimes severely, and anybody who figures out the identities of the Bat family wouldn't have any compunctions about attacking you to get to me. I'll give you two days. I love you, but I also don't want you to suffer because of me. Think about it and we'll have another conversation."

I stood up. "I'll think about it and come to a decision," I tell him."But until I do, let's carry on together as we have been. And that means that I want you inside me." I offered him my hand and pull him to his feet. Our mouths came together hungrily, and we made our way to the bedroom where we made love, tenderly and with our whole hearts.

The next morning when we got up, we didn't talk about it, and we each got to work. I had a good time sparring with my uncle and watching how he started to teach Pietro. Our teaching styles are going to be different, but I needed to start somewhere. After work, I made some calls.


	15. The decision

That evening, Damian and I had dinner and cuddled a bit before he went out for the night. There was a slight but discernible distance between us that I suspected was a result of him waiting for my decision. The next day we had breakfast before parting, and I went in to the tower for work with my uncle, then finished my interviews and decided to do a little shopping. I went uptown to Athleta for workout clothes, then down to Modell's for shoes, then to Chacott's for ballet shoes. Natasha and I had started stretching and dancing again and I needed some new shoes for that. My renters insurance had paid out faster than I thought it would, so I had a little extra to spend. Then my last stop was Azaleas, and I headed back to the hotel. I cut through a parking garage to make better time, and slowed and turned as someone called my name.

I frowned to see Talia. She looked slightly out of breath and cross, but I'd been moving fast and I was dressed for it, whereas she wore a tight pencil skirt and heels. "You really need to stay away from me," I said conversationally. "Damian won't be pleased when I tell him you followed me."

"My son will get over it. Specifically, he'll get over you. What on earth is he thinking? You're fairly intelligent, pretty and I imagine he enjoys your body well enough, but you bring nothing substantial with you. No power, no money, no connections." She shook her head. And lunged at me with a knife. She wasn't as good as she thought, telegraphing her moves that much. I disarmed her easily, let her land some blows to see how she fought and what her skill level was, then pretty much beat her to a pulp. She was skilled, don't get me wrong, but she was not in my weight class. And the look on her face as she also realized this was priceless. Is it bad of me to be pleased by that? I consolidated my purchases a bit and picked up the knife with one of the plastic bags, wrapping it well and securing it with my ponytail elastic in case there was something on the blade. Then I turned my back on the mess on the ground and walked away.

I got home a little before Damian and took a shower to wash off the confrontation in the garage before starting dinner. He came into the kitchen, loosening his tie a little, a trace of apprehension on his handsome face. "Come sit down," I invited him, walking into the living room. He perched gingerly on a sofa and I sat on the coffee table , looking at him. "I've made my decision." He tensed and I shook my head, astonished. "Have some faith," I scolded him. "I'm staying. I adore you. Passionately, outrageously. You're the light in my life. I talked to Emma about what it was like for her; she's had two husbands in the superhero game and knows what the challenges are. Then I talked to Alfred." Damian's face was a study. His fear hadn't quite left him yet and warred with rising hope and relief. "Very interesting conversation, about which I'd be happy to fill you in later. But the truth is this. I love you, and I want to spend how much life we each have with you. I'm committed to you and to us. There's not much I feel like we can't get through together, but my hard line is infidelity or abuse. Anything else we work on together. Life is risk, and there's a possibility that an accident could part us next week, or, against the odds, that we die of extreme old age. So here it is. I want to be with you, ideally, I hope to marry you down the road, and I'd like to bear your children at some point. So what do you think of that?"

"I think that I'm the luckiest man on earth and that I don't deserve you," he breathed.

"Sure you do," I disagreed amiably, then stood up and untied the wrap dress I wore, peeling it back to show him the new lingerie I'd gotten that day at Azaleas. He stood up jerkily and yanked me to him for a frantic kiss. I ended up under him on the floor as we made love wildly and passionately.

Dinner burned. Whoops.

He rolled off me and after a moment I straddled him. "Also, your mother caught up with me when I was shopping today and told me that I wasn't good enough for you, so I beat her up. I'm sure somebody found her and called it in. There were cars going in and out."

He wheezed as he tried to focus on this. "And you're just telling me now?"

"Yes, I wanted to get the most important things addressed first, and I wanted you relaxed. She had a knife, but I disarmed her and brought it back. It's on the desk in the study, wrapped in plastic."

"You beat up my mother."

"Yes. Under other circumstances, I'd feel kind of bad about that, but she started it. And she's not as good as you said she was."

"She's not?" The conversation was penetrating the haze of sexual satisfaction.

"No. But maybe she's lost her edge since the last time you saw her fight," I said, feeling generous.

"What did she tell you?" I repeated the conversation. He lay there for a few minutes, thinking.

"What are you thinking?" I pressed. He was tense between my thighs. I decided I preferred it when he was exhausted and happy. He relaxed and smirked at me.

"I think it was naughty of you to hold that back." And he got 'payback.' Afterward, it took him a few moments before he regretfully disengaged from me and sat up. He fished the phone out of his suit coat pocket and called his dad, reporting my encounter with Talia. I heard squawking. He grinned at me, reaching out to play with my nipple. "Where did that happen?" he asked me, and I gave him the cross streets for the garage. He said goodbye to his dad and tossed the phone on the sofa, then helped me get up. We had to forage for dinner, then we actually made it back to our bed.

We were roused about an hour later by knocking on the door. He caught up his robe on the way out the door, telling me to stay put. I got up and put on my robe and followed him out. He grimaced at me before looking through the peephole. He muttered a curse and opened the door to his father, still dressed in his suit.

"Something burn?" he asked his son, trying not to smirk.

Damian ran an impatient hand through his thick hair. "Dad--"

"I found the hospital where your mother was taken," Bruce said smoothly. "I thought we might go and have a chat with her." Damian brightened and followed me back to the bedroom. When he emerged from the bathroom, I patted his very fine butt.

"Bring me back some ice cream," I requested. He grinned at me, threw on some clothes, and kissed me hard before bolting out the door. I grinned too and stretched. There's nothing like the physical sensation you get after the best ever sex, and we had a very strong emotional connection as well. I'd committed myself to him and I was prepared to stay with him for as long as we had together. I accepted him, both parts of his identity and the risks that came with that. I cleaned up the sad charred remnants of dinner and took another shower, using an edible massage oil I had instead of lotion afterward, and did my hair so I'd be all sexy for Damian when he got back.

With the ice cream.

I didn't have long to wait. I laughed when he came in with a pint of Ample Hills Creamery's Peppermint Patty ice cream and a dozen red roses. I didn't have to look up the meaning for that. "She doesn't like the idea of you dividing my loyalties, and she doesn't think she can corrupt you into being her tool. Dad took the knife and is going to analyze it to see if there was anything on the blade, but it's unlikely," he said, temporarily losing his focus as I licked my spoon and gave him a sultry look. "Uh... so. Right. Anyway, she seems to understand that there's the side that I like, the one with you and dad and the rest of the family, and then there's her side, her and Ra's, which is not the side that I will ever pick. And I told her that if she tries that shit again, I will dismantle the al Ghul criminal empire, steal the money--I'd donate it all to charity--and that then I'd come for her and the old man." His smile got cold. He fed me a spoonful of ice cream. "You really did a number on her. You're a lot more than she bargained for and she's afraid of you. I saw it in her face. So she promised to leave you alone and keep her distance from us both. I stepped out of the room and she and dad had a little chat, during which time I alerted the police that the international terrorist Talia al Ghul was at Mt Sinai. The FBI arrived as we were leaving." He seemed pleased. 

"I feel like I should be sorry for beating up your mother," I said, frowning.

"Don't be. She's dangerous and a terrible person. Not much of a mother, either. You'll be a fantastic mother," he said, his eyes heating as he looked at me. For a brief moment, I had the urge to rip out my IUD and get started on that right away, but the urge passed. Whew. I wasn't ready for that yet. "Earlier, what you were saying...I'm with you. I don't need or want anything another woman can offer. There won't ever be anybody who can hold a candle to you. And I know that you can handle yourself, but if I ever lift a hand to you, you need to get away because there will be something wrong with me. I never want to hurt you. We'll have fights and I'd like to spar with you because I'm getting the idea that you're even better than I thought you were, but I'll never physically hurt you. A man doesn't do that. All I want to do is love you. And touch you. A lot. Not just during foreplay, but just to touch your face, hold your hand." I leaned forward and kissed him gently brushing my fingers over his cheek. He caught my hand in his and kissed my palm. "So what did you and Alfred have to talk about?"

I smiled, kissed him again, and added more ice cream to my bowl. "Well, you," I teased, rolling my eyes. "He told me about finding you on the porch, huge attitude in a little body, the struggle to socialize you." My smile softened. Alfred's stories had revealed a scared little boy trying to cover with a shitty attitude, homicidal tendencies, and an ego that wouldn't quit. "And we talked about his work, not the answering of doors butler stuff, his role as support staff to the family." I ate a bite of ice cream.

"And?" he prompted curiously, leaning forward as I ate another spoonful.

"He's getting old, and he's been worried because he hasn't been able to find a replacement," I said simply. Damian's face fell as he considered this.

"Alfred's always been there," he said quietly. "I can't imagine the day when he won't be." I nodded and spooned up more ice cream.

"So we did some figuring. I have my jobs, but training is in the morning and my work in the lab with Tony will be during the day, so he's interested in training me to take over his role as support staff. I have paramedic training and he'll teach me how to use the medical suite as well as doing the other things he takes care of in the bat cave." I watched for his reaction, not sure if I'd overstepped. Alfred had been enthusiastic, but his opinion wasn't the only one that mattered. "Eventually we'd have to move to the mansion."

Damian bent his head, then pressed my hand over his heart. His face was hopeful when he looked at me again. "You'd really do that for me?"

"Yes," I said. "Doing what you do, you need somebody who can take care of you when you come home. Alfred has no intent to retire any time soon, but he's thinking of the future. And I think that it's something that I can do effectively."

"You already have," he murmured, pressing my palm to his cheek and rubbing it. "When you picked me up off the floor of that parking garage in high school. What is it with you and parking garages, anyway?" His eyes sparkled at me.

"It's you guys who like to have the drama scenes in them, not me," I retorted. He snorted.

"I'd always planned on moving back to the house eventually," he said, offering me more ice cream. "I took this suite mainly to make it easier to lure you to me. It's a great location, nice amenities. Romantic. And private. But I love the house, and it's certainly easier to do the Robin thing there. And there's enough room that we can have our privacy." He frowned slightly. "We can put locks on the bedroom door, just to be certain." I grinned at him. "Would you consider moving there at some point? Not now, of course. I like being able to have you anywhere the mood strikes us, and that won't be possible at the house. I'll have to learn some self-control first." I chortled. I'd have to learn too. Just the thought of being walked in on by his dad--again--or Alfred was mortifying enough. And maybe in a few months the urge to pounce on him all the time would lessen. But while I could... I got up and pushed his chair away from the table, unzipping his pants and drawing him out. He got hard almost immediately. I smiled; it's always nice to be appreciated. I knelt between his legs and winked at him.

"Might as well take advantage of our privacy," I said huskily, and put my hands on him. He gasped when I took him in my mouth, still cold from the ice cream, but it warmed up fast.

"Yeah," he murmured afterward, his body relaxed in the chair, head dropped back. "We need to stay put here for awhile."

I sent him off to work the next day with a blitzed grin on his face and hummed as I got ready. I got to the tower in plenty of time to dance with Natasha, then worked with Sif. The Asgardian guards who accompanied her everywhere no longer thought we were wasting our time but watched intently. Pietro was whiny, and Bucky sparred with me full tilt to show him what either of us could do. Pietro shut up the first time I landed a blow. It was fun to spar like that, using every bit of my ability and knowing that I was giving my uncle a run for his money too. Pietro's training had become sort of a community event in the short time it had been happening, and afterward Kate approached me and asked if I could teach her too, at least to throw a punch. The Hawkeyes depended on their bows, but Clint knew how to brawl and it wouldn't hurt for Kate to know too. I took her over to the hanging bag and started to drill her on punching; boxing would probably fit her the best. It was easier to pick up and she most likely wouldn't be fighting most of the time. Toward the end of my time in the training room, as Bucky and I were comparing notes and discussing each student's needs, Tony showed up and asked me to come upstairs when I was done.

When I got up to his office, he got up and we went down a flight of stairs to the lab. I looked around, smiling. It was bright and sunny and as well equipped as I'd imagined. By the windows was a massive partners desk, walnut with beautiful figure in the wood and a leather-inlaid top. The right hand side was a cabinet with two shelves, the left side held drawers, and there was a center drawer. Two leather executive chairs were parked on either side.

"You'll be down here more than I will, so pick your side," he directed. We walked around the lab and he explained the equipment and where he wanted to start investigating. Then he handed me a phone like his and had me flip the first data set from a file. The lab was equipped with the same projectors he put anywhere he spent significant time and we spent some time walking around the projections, comparing and discussing. "We're having an open house here Saturday afternoon," he said. "Give everybody a chance to see the new lab, I've also invited a couple other people who are interested in alternative energy sources that aren't the big ones--solar, wind, hydro, geothermal. There may be opportunities for collaboration down the line. Bring your boyfriend," he directed. I repressed a sigh; we didn't have any formal plans for the weekend, so I'd planned to spend the days in bed. Or against the wall. Or in the shower. You know. Gotta switch it up now and then. But I supposed I could carve out some time to show Damian where I'll be spending most of my days. And we could get dinner on the way back home. "Invite your parents," he added. "They might like to see where you'll be working."

As we talked, I was eager to get started, and when I asked if I could start sooner, Tony was surprised and pleased and we arranged that I'd start on Monday.

On the way out the door, I ran into Aslyn again and we went to lunch and caught up. She was closing on a house on Friday and showed me pictures. It was really cute, midcentury, two bed/bath with an open floorplan, freshly painted throughout in a warm ivory that she really liked. It didn't come with appliances; she'd bought new stainless ones which would be delivered the afternoon she took possession; they closed in the morning.

"Do you need any help moving?" I asked, and we arranged for her to pick me up after she got her keys; we'd go to her parent's house and load her boxes into a moving van with a few pieces of family heirloom furniture. The rest of her furniture was also scheduled for delivery that afternoon, so she'd be able to spend the first night in her new home in comfort. Then we got caught up on other news; she was pleased that I'd be working all day in the tower again on Monday. It meant we'd be able to go to lunch more. She'd broken up with her girlfriend and I thought she was lonely.

"I finally met Damian's mother," I volunteered, and her eyes got big.

"What's she like? Did she like you?"

"No, she pretty much said that I'd snared her son with my vagina and that he could do much better. She's a rampaging bitch," I said, thinking of her and the knife. 

"Wow, I guess so," Aslyn said, taken aback.

"It's ok, though, Damian doesn't like her either. She was a terrible mom."

"But his dad likes you, doesn't he?"

"Fortunately," I said, nodding. "Because Damian does care about his opinion." We talked more, then she had to get back to work. I went home and called Damian, looking out the window onto Central Park.

"Saturday afternoon? I can do that for a couple of hours," he said. "When you talk to your parents, ask if they'd like to stay over night. They could stay in the suite. I'm sure Dad would like to meet them." I heard Bruce's voice in the background. "Dad's also been invited to the party and would like to host your parents out at the mansion," he reported. "We could have dinner there after the open house, socialize." I thanked him and promised to extend the invitation.

When I talked to Dad, he was enthusiastic about both aspects of the invitation; Mom didn't work at the coffee shop on Sunday. I thought that he wanted to be sure that there weren't giant cabinets of chemicals teetering, ready to rain down on me at the merest nudge, that my boss was stable now, and he liked the idea of spending more time with Damian and meeting his father. "You are living with his son," he pointed out. "And if things go well..."

I smiled. "It's too soon to talk about marriage, but I am serious about Damian," I told him. "So it's good for you all to meet. You could have your choice of where to stay, actually. Damian also offered a bedroom in the suite."

"That's very nice of him," Dad said, pleased. We talked a little more, and arranged for him and Mom to drive up earlier and come to the suite; we'd have lunch and I'd throw my boyfriend to the wolves and let my parents grill him. Er, get to know him better. Then we'd go to the open house, go out to the mansion for cocktails, dinner, and after-dinner conversation, then Damian and I could go home alone. A ha! Then Mom and Dad would pick up their car Sunday morning and head back home.

Damian liked the plan too, so it was arranged to everybody's satisfaction. It wasn't the weekend I thought I'd be having, but on the other hand, maybe it was a good idea to do something else besides mount my boyfriend. I nodded to myself. Yes, I needed some outside interests.


	16. Open house

Friday, I got up early and did some shopping before going over to Aslyn's parents to help her move. She too had held off on replacing a lot of stuff until she'd gotten settled, so there wasn't more than ten boxes, some garment bags, a beautiful rosewood bureau, a walnut sideboard, an Eames chair, and a camel-back trunk one of her ancestors had used when emigrating to this county. It held a couple of afghans that her grandma had crocheted. She showed me around her new home with pride. It was lovely, with lots of natural light. We brought in her boxes, positioned her furniture, and I presented my housewarming gifts: a cookbook (we'd eaten a lot of takeout when we were roommates, but in her neighborhood, there weren't nearly as many restaurants), a bouquet of calla lilies, which were her favorite flowers, and a bottle of champagne. We sat on the porch while waiting for her deliveries to start and drank it so it wouldn't get warm. 

"I forgot I needed glasses and stuff," she said, a little frazzled. We passed the bottle back and forth as we talked, and we finished it as the Home Depot truck pulled up. I admired the gleaming appliances that could do everything but actually prep the food and fold the clothes, and we had pizza delivered while waiting for the furniture. Aslyn had good taste and an eclectic personal style, so the furniture was a little offbeat but well made and comfortable. After the last delivery, we went to Target and a couple other stores to get the basics. I left her a little overwhelmed with the responsibility of home ownership but thrilled and content.

Damian and I slept in the next morning and we picked up the suite in preparation for my parents. They arrived around two, and there was time to talk, for them to get to know Damian better. They also had a surprise, diamond solitaire earrings to replace the high school graduation gift that had been lost in the fire. I put them right in, and we went to the tower for the open house.

Mom and dad were a little cautious to see Tony again, but he flexed his formidable charm and soon they were reasonably convinced that he wasn't going to turn back into a capricious weirdo. Avengers who I'd worked with ambled in and out to show support and meet my parents and Damian. Bucky, Emma, Sigurd, and Torburn were also there so we had a mini family reunion. Bruce and Alfred came in and Damian took over the introductions as Tony wanted me to meet some people he hoped to be working with in the future; we would be conducting separate research but collaborating to further develop ideas and make workable systems. I had no idea how it would all work out in reality, but our patents would be respected. There were snacks and champagne, and my personal support group hung out by my desk (I'd staked out my side with family photographs, including one of Damian looking extra-hot in one of his suits.) After the open house, we went down to the training facility. Bucky and I gave a demonstration. I think my parents weren't prepared for my level of expertise, and I certainly caught the attention of the bat family. Bruce also invited my aunt and uncle to dinner, and off we trooped.

The pups loved the yard, and we had cocktails in the library before dinner. I was pleased to see that my parents seemed to like Bruce and vice versa; Bruce could sometimes be dour, but he was exerting himself to be likable and friendly as much as my parents were. Bucky had known him before, but it was nice to see him interact with Bruce when Damian and I weren't having a medical crisis, and he and Emma chatted like the old acquaintances they were. The dinner was outstanding, and we went back to the city with Bucky and Emma. Alfred and Bruce would bring my parents to the hotel for breakfast and to pick up their car the next morning.

We got up early and read the paper together. The news dominating the headline was that the S'mores killer had struck again. Another apartment building, but in this case, the emergency exits had been barred from the outside. Sixteen people had died. Victims described a horrible scene; the electricity had been left on this time and this helped to increase the panic. I called Aslyn to see if she'd seen the news. It was disturbing and upsetting, and I was glad that neither of us was in an apartment anymore.

My parents were too, when they came for breakfast. They worried about me, but that was their job, and I felt safer at the hotel than I had in the apartment, frankly. There was a lot more security and had been even before the arsonist. With a bit of an effort, I got the topic changed and they thanked Bruce again for hosting them. They seemed to be getting along well, I was pleased to see. After breakfast, we saw them off, and I thanked Bruce for having them.

"My pleasure," he assured me, smiling slightly. "They're nice people, very interesting." Then he drove off to do whatever Batman does on the weekend, and Damian and I had to go shopping. He had some social obligations coming up and he'd asked me to accompany him. One of the invitations had actually been addressed to us both. He'd looked smug.

"Word is getting around that one of the most eligible women in the city is off the market," he'd said, making me laugh. We got a couple of long gowns, nice clean designs, and several cocktail dresses, since most of the parties and events he needed to attend were not formal. Only one was black; there was a beautiful blue lace dress and a really interesting dress with a wrapped waist, bands of fabric that went over the breasts and down the back, and a slit up the thigh. Mostly the fabrics were plain and the interest came from either the fabric itself or how it was manipulated. A couple of pairs of dress shoes, a couple of evening wraps, a beaded, satin clutch, and I was done. Damian had a good time with the parade of dresses. I really hit the jackpot with him, a guy who liked to go shopping, had opinions and good taste, and didn't mind holding my purse for me.

The next couple of weeks Tony was down in our lab most of the time as we hammered out our first steps; it would be mostly up to me to execute them. It was exciting to think we were going off in an entirely new direction, hopefully ending up with a game-changer in energy generation. Tony had his share of research failures, but his success was higher than average, so I felt reasonably sure we would have our successes too. And with the partnerships he was crafting with other researchers, we should be able to achieve even more. 

The next big thing was our celebration of life for Margaret. Friends from MIT flew in for it, and we had her other friends, Vanilla, and a good chunk of her coworkers. Everybody tried to make it a real celebration of what a special person she had been, but I mourned her loss rather than celebrated how vibrant she'd been. Cara, Martha, and Bess helped Aslyn and me clean up after the service; Damian had kissed me goodbye and gone back to work. Tony had given me a couple days off both for the service and to let me spend some time with Cara, Bess, and Martha. They were staying in the suite and it was wonderful to have some time with them again. After she graduated in May, Martha was going to do post-doc work at Harvard (we groaned, Aslyn cackled) and Cara was going to work for the Pacific Northwest National Laboratory in Richland, Washington to work on the processing and disposal of nuclear fuels. Bess was set to spend the rest of the afternoon after the service with Emma, who had some good career advice as well as apparently great shop talk. Most of Margaret's coworkers and other friends had left. Vanilla was staring at the picture of Margaret that we'd had placed in front of the podium, and we were trying to be compassionate and let him be rather than asking him to get out of the way. 

When we were done, we wanted to leave but Vanilla was still there. To nudge him along, I asked if he wanted to keep the picture, and he agreed. He picked it up and touched her image gently. "It shouldn't have been her to die," he said softly.

"No," agreed Aslyn. We put our arms around each other's waist and leaned together for a moment. He glared at us, and I had never seen so much hate concentrated in one person.

"She was supposed to spend the night at my place," he gritted out. "But she felt like staying in with you two instead. She didn't have to die. It wasn't supposed to happen." And with that, he stomped off, carefully holding the picture.

"I know he's grieving," said Bess quietly, "but geeze, what an asshole."

"Gotta agree with B," Martha said, frowning. "Margaret was kind of slumming with this guy. I know the dating market in New York is tough, but she was a star. Couldn't she have done any better?"

"Yeah, but he was Mr Right-Now," Aslyn said, scowling. "And to be fair, he was good to her."

"He's never really liked us," I said, shrugging, and went to take care of the podium. "She unfortunately told him some funny stories about what we used to get up to." Cara cast her eyes up in supplication.

"So vanilla isn't just his favorite ice cream flavor," she guessed. Aslyn smiled thinly.

"Not by a long shot. And he wouldn't even be real vanilla from an orchid. He'd be that crappy synthetic stuff." We chuckled a little, took one last look around, and left.

The next week I took time to call Detective MacIver. I called him once a year-ish to get an update on the Joker, just for my peace of mind. He reported that nothing much had changed, then inquired if I was ok. He'd heard that I'd been in the apartment fire.

"I'm doing ok," I said. "We just had a memorial service for our roommate who didn't make it." I hesitated a moment. "Are there any leads on the arsonist?" I refused to call him the S'mores killer, although with the fire that he'd set just a couple days before, he'd also left a chocolate bar and a pack of graham crackers. Seemed like he was buying into his nickname.

"Unfortunately not," the detective said grimly. I debated briefly, then told him about Vanilla.

"I'm sure it's probably nothing," I said uneasily, "But he really hates Aslyn and me and there was just something about the way he said that it shouldn't have been her, that she didn't have to die. Margaret, specifically."

I could pretty much hear MacIver's shrug. "There aren't so many leads that they can afford to ignore even one. I'll pass it along." I thanked him and we hung up. I felt better, anyway. If it was just a matter of him hating us, that was one thing, and he'd be able to prove that he wasn't the arsonist. But if he had anything to do with Margaret's death, and the others, and the loss of property, I wanted him to pay for it.

I didn't hear anything back from MacIver, so I dismissed it from my mind. My days were filled with work; after only a month of testing different algae strains, Tony and I felt that one in particular was promising and we were focusing our attentions. Aslyn and I usually had lunch a couple times a week, and she was happy with her house and was starting to date a corporate attorney. Her assurance that he was a lot of fun was borne out when Damian and I went out on a double date with them. He worked for Oscorp and was smart and quickwitted, a good match for Aslyn. My nights were split between spending time with Damian, either just at home together or out investigating new things or going to some of the parties to which he received a continual stream of invitations. On the other nights, I amused myself, sometimes going out with Aslyn, but in any case waiting for Robin to return home. Alfred helped me turn one of the spare rooms into a treatment room, with more advanced instruments and more equipment than I had in my paramedic bag. Because it wasn't private property, we couldn't install a surgical suite into the room, but I felt a lot more prepared to deal with Damian when he came dragging in after a vigorous night fighting crime.

Or being dragged. Early one morning, I heard the closet open and a guy who looked vaguely familiar brought Damian in over his shoulder. I took him back to the treatment room; the bed and its pristine linens were protected by a highly absorbent, soft sheet of fabric. He sat on a chair and watched as I checked Damian out; he had a concussion and was badly bruised, with a couple of cracked ribs. I reported this to the man, who nodded and sat back, looking relieved. "We've met before," he said abruptly. "Damian was grounded in high school but he still had friends over. I'm Dick Grayson."

"Oh, right," I said, nodding as I remembered. "You used to be Robin." He laughed.

"Been a long time since I was a Robin," he noted. "I became Nightwing when I outgrew being a side kick." He watched me start to treat Damian's bruising. "We tracked down Firefly," he said. "Damian thought he might have information on the S'mores killer, but it was a dead end. He's pissed that this guy might be taking over as the leading villain pyro." Dick sighed. "Although aren't all pyros villains by default? But we ran into some of the Penguin's minions. They seemed pretty happy." He frowned. "That's never good for us, and Damian there got pissed when they wouldn't tell us and picked a fight. My brother's still got a shitty attitude." He shook his head, watching me patch Damian up. "Lucky though, to have such a pretty medic."

"I thought Damian was an only child," I said absently.

"Technically, yeah, he's the only child of Bruce and Talia. But Bruce adopted all of his Robins, so like it or not--and for most of the time, he has not liked it--he's had brothers. He really didn't like Tim--I think it was jealousy--and Jason...Jason's kind of our lost boy. He's kind of nuts and he uses lethal force a lot more than any of us are comfortable with, but if you really need him, he'll come through." He considered this and I remembered the man sitting with Damian in the recovery suite.

"Reddish hair, got a white streak in it?" Dick nodded.

"Yeah; he'll probably be nice to you, but don't really trust him too far or with too much. He's still got major issues with Bruce. So you're the Winter Soldier's niece."

"Yep. Great-great-niece, actually."

"What's that like? Bruce is usually pretty taciturn, punctuated at times by real darkness, but he's not a killer."

I frown. "Bucky isn't either, anymore. He was a cop, then a soldier, then a prisoner of war, then a commando, and finally a brainwashed torture victim. And since he's broken free, he's back to being a very good man. He's always been wonderful to me, from the day we met."

"How'd that come about?"

"I had come to New York for high school, stayed with a host family, who were wonderful to me, but not family, so I tracked him down. I was terrified, I wasn't very self confident, but I wanted to meet him." I smiled, cleaning a scrape gently. "Since then he's been amazing. What I like the most about him is that aside from teaching me self-defense, he's been ready to help me when I need it, but he never tells me what I should or shouldn't do. He dismissed my worries exactly once. Aside from that, he's always respected my opinions. Having somebody like Uncle Bucky in your corner like that, supporting but not inhibiting, is amazing."

"What happened when he minimized your concern?"

My hands fell idle for a moment. "It was after the Joker's kidnapping on New Year's Eve. I didn't think that he was done with me yet, and he wasn't." I positioned the accelerator over Damian's face.

"I don't suppose you want to tell me about that."

"Not in the least. All I'll say is that it's personally satisfying to know that the Joker was caught because of me."

"So if you have training from the best former assassin in the world, why aren't you a superhero? Damian said you went to MIT, so I'm surprised you're not on the Avengers."

"Bucky didn't train me to be an assassin, and even when I was almost out of my head with rage, i couldn't kill even the Joker. I don't want to kill, and I don't want to get in fights all the time. I am enhanced, but I'm not a superhero. So I'm serving by getting ready to take over as the Avenger's trainer when he's ready to step down. I'm not a genius like most of you people. All of you have stunning abilities in multiple areas. I'm just smart and I work with algae. My biggest talent is that I learned a self-defense system well enough to teach it. I'll fight when I have to, but I'm not inclined to make it my life's calling."

"Seems like a waste, is all." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Somebody has to teach the people who want to be heroes how to fight, and somebody has to mop you all up afterwards. I don't think there's anything wrong with being support staff. It's the best use of my talents and abilities," I said crisply.

"Don't badger her, Grayson," Damian muttered and his hand found mine. "Ask Dad. You should be grateful she's not a fighter because she could kick your ass. And she competed in the Spartan race what, six times? Finished each time. Alfred has a mind to have her take over when he's done too, and you'd never tell Alfred that he was wasted."

I asked Damian some questions, brushed his silky hair back, and told him to rest. I noticed that Dick was bleeding, and had him sit up for treatment. Afterward, I walked him to the closet. "I don't mean to offend you," he said. "But you know our secrets and Damian's nuts about you. You passed Bruce's test, but he's not the best judge of women, to be frank. But if Alfred approves of you, I feel better."

I smiled. I liked that he was protective of his brother. "I have a little brother too, although to my knowledge, he's just your average outstanding medical student. Someday I'll meet a woman he's serious about and I'll be wanting to be sure she measures up too." He smiled, and disappeared down the stairs. I went back into Damian.

"Sorry about Grayson," he said, patting his formerly black eye gingerly. "He can't help being a dick, it's his name."

"He's just looking out for you," I pointed out, readjusting the accelerator and yawning. "As he pointed out, Bruce isn't necessarily the best judge of women."

"Oh, he is, actually, he's just got a very deep weakness for women who aren't, well, law-abiding. Or altogether right in the head, anyway, just look at my mother. But he likes that you're not shady and that you're steadfast. He even admires how you keep him and Stark balanced, they've been rivals for a long time."

"So how did your patrol go?" I asked, putting a pillow under his head for comfort.

"Frustrating," he said. "I'm not getting the answers I want, and I get the feeling that trouble's brewing. The criminal element is just too happy. Don't know what they're planning, though."

"Frustrating," I agreed, and we talked until his treatment was over and the concussion medication had taken effect, then I helped him to our bed for what remained of the night.


	17. Big kitty

A few nights later, we had another fundraiser to go to, for which I got to wear one of my new dresses, a fantastic sangria Monique Lhuillier, and my pearls. Damian surprised me with new earrings, small pearls on sprays of white gold and tiny diamonds. There was also a ring, an enormous silky pale blue star sapphire surrounded by little diamonds. I gave him a look as he was sliding the ring onto my right ring finger. It fit perfectly. He was unrepentant. "You need jewelry at these things," he said. "And I like giving you pretty things." He kissed my shoulder, then put a finger across my lips carefully. "Nope. It's part of the world you're getting into with me, and I'm going to make sure that you appropriately outfitted. Most of the people at these things are nice, but it only takes one rude person to ruin your fun. Plus it's fun to watch other people look at you, how beautiful you are, and know that you've chosen me." He handed me my clutch. "Ready?"

I gave up the fight and took his arm. "It's not that I don't love the pretty things, but they're so expensive," I explained. He just shrugged, unmoved. "You always look so handsome, but especially in a tuxedo," I said. He preened a bit and I smiled, placing my hand on his chest briefly. At the party, he made several introductions, then we were separated. Some of the women oohed over my jewelry and dress, and several men asked me to dance. The skirt of my dress was beautiful but not really conducive to dancing, unfortunately. I was talking to a group of older people who were fascinated to hear that I worked with Tony in new energy when Tony himself showed up. I listened with some amusement as he charmed the cynics in the group and departed with them to talk about business. I turned, intending to seek out more canapes, and came face to face with Selena Kyle. She was wearing a black column dress, very chic, with a diamond and moonstone necklace that was spectacular. She kissed my cheek and lightly drew her finger over my pearls. I gave her a look, and she laughed.

"I'm mostly retired, darling, and Bruce would have my head if I liberated them. The boy does have a good eye for quality, though. I taught him some things." My eyebrows rose. One thing that you must always say about Selena was that she was impeccably stylish and wore only the best. And of course, Damian is a quick study.

"Your necklace is gorgeous," I complimented her, and she nodded.

"Bruce gave it to me," she said. "It was to keep me from paying your auntie's old business a visit one night." She smiled. "Not that I didn't drop by periodically. She used to make me little pretties as a bribe so that I wouldn't help myself to her other sparkly things." I laughed. It seemed like a very Emma thing to do.

Damian stepped up to my side, kissed my temple in greeting, then smiled at Selena. They talked for a moment, then her usual teasing demeanor slid away. "I wanted to tell you that I had to have Qitta put to sleep," she told him compassionately, and his face went blank. He nodded brusquely as his eyes developed a sheen. "She had cancer," she told me, and I looked puzzled.

"Damian was always bringing home stray cats," Bruce said, appearing by Selena's side. "We rehomed most of them with Selena."

"She was eighteen or so," Selena said a little anxiously. "She had a good life." I laced my fingers with Damian's and patted his hand.

He managed a cursory smile. "I know she did," he told her. "She was one of my favorites."

"They were all your favorites," his dad sighed. "But it was unfair to ask Alfred to take care of all of them."

"How many did you bring home?" I asked.

"Eleven," he said promptly.

"He brought a cow home once," his father said, still a little pained by the memory, apparently. "Turned him into a vegetarian."

"What did you do with it?" I asked, fascinated.

"Kept it," he said. "She ended up on the dairy farm, content to the last."

"I've seen you eat meat, though," I said to Damian, puzzled. He nodded.

"I relapsed some," he said. "But I do try to limit myself."

"What changed your mind?"

"Bacon," he sighed. "It's my gateway drug." I laughed. "It was still unfair to limit me to one cat and one dog. And the cow," he said to his dad

"I can't believe we're still having this conversation after all these years, son," Bruce said, slightly cross. "If you want to move back home, then you can have all the pets you want, as long as you clean up after them," Bruce said craftily, and Damian and I laughed.

"As a bribe, that's not half bad," he told his dad. "Remember that it was your idea," he said, and his laugh was loud enough that people nearby turned to see what was so amusing. Bruce started to look faintly worried, and Selena drew him away before he could make any more promises he might not like to remember.

"What did you name your pets?" I asked Damian as we started to make our way to the door.

"The cat was black and white, so I named him Alfred." I looked at him funny. "What? Alfred gave him to me. It was a compliment. The dog was half German Shepard, half Great Dane, looked mostly Great Dane, his name was Titus. Then there was Bat-cow."

"No," I chortled. He grinned.

"Yes. She had a marking like a bat across her forehead, and a star brand on her flank. I rescued her from a slaughterhouse, and good thing, too. She'd been weaponized, had a mind-controlling radiation. That's why she didn't live as long as a regular cow." He paused as we went through to the street to wait for the valet. "Do you like cats? Or dogs?"

"Both," I said. "But let's not go nuts here. Remember, the condition was that you clean up after them, and cats really should be indoor pets, especially with so many predators in the country, so that means litterboxes. One per cat, plus one extra is what the vet told us when we had cats at home."

"Hmm." He held the car door for me then sauntered over to the other side.

The next day we hit a wall at work and after deducing that we couldn't break through immediately, Tony told me to take the afternoon off and we'd tackle it again the next day.

So I went shopping. Then I lurked at Wayne Enterprises until Damian came out with his father, sauntering over for a kiss. "Hi, Sweet Pea," Damian said, happy to provide the kiss. "Did I forget that we had a thing or something?"

"Nope," I said. "I've been shopping."

"What did you get?" Bruce asked. I waved my hand at the curb like a game show hostess to the gleaming Caldera Red F-Type Jaguar roadster.

"Wow," Bruce said.

"Fuck," Damian said, then flushed a little at the look his dad gave him. I grinned. They beelined over for a look.

"I like a stick shift," I said, and they both agreed. The fit was a little too tight for Bruce, who looked disappointed, and Damian just fit. There wasn't a lot of room to move the seats at all, the cost of a roadster. A victory for the short.

"I'd offer to take it to Alfred to get it set up to access the .... restricted areas of the property," Bruce said, struggling to extricate himself. "But I might be stuck. And you should definitely have that access." I leaned in from the passenger side and put the top down, which gave him a little more room to maneuver.

"It's a good idea, though," Damian said immediately. "We can go out tonight, drop it off, if you don't mind," he said to me.

"The temptation is there to drive it everywhere," I acknowledged, "but that would be fine. Thank you."

Bruce patted my shoulder. "Of course."

"We can come pick you up in the FossilMobile tomorrow night," Damian said, referring to the Rolls, "And we can come back to the city after we pick up the car. I bet Alfred will have dinner for us too."

Bruce looked a little disgruntled at his son's characterization of the Rolls, but we agreed it was a good plan, and I followed the Rolls and Damian's BMW to the estate. Alfred came out when we pulled up to the porch, and his attention was immediately arrested by the Jag.

"Miss Alex," he greeted me. "So lovely to see you, and in such a nice vehicle. A triumph of British coachmaking." I didn't want to smack his national pride by noting that an Indian company, Tata, had bought Jaguar from Ford. We talked about horsepower and torque (he was impressed with the 340 ft/lbs of torque, quite decent) and the engine (I sent mental thanks to the saleswoman who had told me all these things), and nodded regally when Bruce said he wanted it outfitted so I could get to the back entrance of the Bat cave as well as through the public main gate without having to call up to the house. "It will be no trouble," he assured me. "My pleasure, in fact, to work on such a fine automobile, Miss Alex. Would you and Master Damian like to stay for dinner?"

We stayed for dinner, then Damian drove us back home. "Maybe it's time for an upgrade," he mused. "I've had this car for over a decade now."

"Alfred keeps it beautifully, though," I said, baiting him a little. He chortled.

"Why'd you go with Jaguar?" he asked.

"When I was a kid, I loved the cars with the sleek hood ornaments. Unfortunately they don't have hood ornaments anymore, but I still like the cars. And it's a roadster!"

"What's the big deal about that?"

"Nancy Drew always drove roadsters, and I thought that was the coolest thing ever. I'm not Nancy Drew, girl detective, but at least I can afford the roadster on my new salary."

He laughed, then squeezed my hand. "I'd have gotten it for you, but I understand why you'd want to buy it yourself."

The next day I had a hard time focusing on my work, I was so eager to pick up my new car. And I needed to keep my mind on work; Bucky was having me start training new Avengers Eli Bradley (Patriot) and Tommy Shepard (Speed). Additionally, to my surprise, Thor's BFF Hogun had requested training, and I agreed as a favor to Thor. It helped that he wasn't an Asgardian but from Vanaheim, wherever that was.

After that, Tony and I still didn't break through our problem, but we tried a couple of new things, which at least allowed us to do something rather than sit around and be cranky at our lack of insight. I was relieved when it was time to leave. Damian and Bruce were waiting for me and we drove out to the house. Alfred had dinner for us, delicious salmon with roasted potatoes and vegetables, after which Bruce had some business to attend to and Alfred insisted on bringing the car around. Because somehow I'd never gotten a full tour of the mansion, Damian decided that now was as good a time as any. The ground floor had most of the interesting rooms as there was the library, a couple of parlors, and a music room on this floor. There were suites on the second and third floors, with half of the third floor turned into a glassed-in conservatory. Bruce's mother had overseen this change; half the attic had been ripped out to accommodate the new construction and the floor heavily reinforced. There was also a turret that ran down one corner at the back of the house, which I'd somehow missed. It was Gothic in character, with tracery over the window panes, some of which were colored glass in a diamond pattern, and vaulted ribbing that spread out across the ceilings. The highest room in the turret was set with window seats and had the best view of the forest behind the house, but the two below that were empty.

"That's unfortunate," I said as we took the back stairs down. "If you should be blessed with a turret, you should use it." Dick came in with Alfred as we walked down the hall.

"Hey, Damian. Nice car, Alex," he said.

"I was just showing her around the heap," Damian told Dick, and Alfred managed to suppress an eye roll, settling for a more rigid posture instead.

"Has Bruce convinced you to move back?" Dick asked his brother.

"Not yet," Damian said.

"It's a near thing," I added. "He said Damian could have all the pets he can clean up after if he does." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alfred's look of alarm. Dick guffawed.

"Clever to add that condition," he said, wiping his eyes. "Otherwise you'd be running a shelter, Alfred."

"It would be nice to have a dog or cat again," he allowed, and Damian smirked.

"Alex, you're an engineer. Maybe you could give some thought to the creation of an easy-clean litter box system," Damian said, stroking my hair away from my face.

"Dude, she's got better things to do," Dick said. "And so do we tonight. We've gotta hit the streets in search of information. Sorry, Alex."

I smiled. "Well, this way I'll be able to drive home guilt free. I was planning on letting Damian take it for a spin." Damian looked calculating, and his brother dragged him down to the bat cave after a hasty kiss goodbye. Alfred took me out and showed me where he'd hidden the electronic key to the backdoor entrance to the bat cave--all you had to do was press the Jaguar emblem on the steering wheel three times to engage it, which was much easier than having to fumble around for a hidden button in the console.

"That's so ingenious, Alfred," I said sincerely, and he looked pleased. He said that he'd also installed a remote for the main gate that would engage without any work on my part when I drove up, and also handed me a key to the house in case I came by when nobody was here. I was touched and gave him a hug before he held the car door for me.

"I appreciate your attempts to rein in Master Damian," he said. "Otherwise we'll be living eventually in a menagerie. I enjoy pets as much as the next person, but..."

"Nobody wants to live with a hoarder," I said, nodding, and he smiled. I thanked him again for the delicious dinner and the superior work on my car.

"It was my pleasure, Miss Alex. Drive safely." He closed the door and retreated a bit; I drove off slowly to avoid spraying him with any pebbles or twigs that might be on the driveway, waiting until I was on the road before opening up.

I came home with a speeding ticket, but it was so worth it.

I woke up around three am when Damian started stuffing clothing from the bureau into garbage bags. I clicked on the light and looked at him. "What's going on, honey?" I asked. He was still in his Robin costume.

"We're moving back to the manor. Immediately."

"What? What's going on?"

"The Joker broke out of Arkham a few hours ago."

On the night stand, my phone rattled as it vibrated with an incoming call.


	18. Not joking

I picked up the phone; it was Detective MacIver with the news. I listened as he explained the circumstances of the Joker's escape; essentially, nobody had a clue that he wasn't the brain-damaged drooler he's been since he woke up from the coma until he smiled at one of the six cameras that provides perfect coverage in his special cell, made a gun with his fingers, and said "BANG!" as the lights went out. The emergency generator had also been sabotaged, so in the three minutes forty-one seconds it took to get power from the main grid back, nobody had eyes on the Joker, and when the lights flickered back on, his cell was empty and the door still locked. The detective said that the police believed that he had headed out of town.

"We believe that he's going to stay away until the heat subsides, then return. It would be safer that way. We don't know his actual mental state or abilities or what he remembers because no psychiatrist or therapist or psychologist is willing to work with him after what happened to Dr Quinzel, but it's obvious that he's pretty functional at least on some levels, and it may be that he remembers you. I have been placed in charge of his apprehension." He sighed and I felt a little sorry for him; this wasn't going to be easy. I felt worse for my clothes, though, as Damian was crumpling expensive silks into wads to stuff into the trash bags. "I would like to encourage your natural tendency to think critically and not panic. If the Joker remembers you--and he might--he might be hoping you panic and do something stupid that would enable his confederates to apprehend you. Obviously, none of us want that, so I would ask that you be cautious but not overreact." Got it. My boyfriend was the one overreacting at the moment. "I will keep you informed, but it should be safe to continue your daily activities for the time being. Please make some plans for when we feel we can no longer reliably count on his absence, however." There was some more of this, then we hung up.

"Honey, stop," I said firmly, and Damian paused in his efforts to cram as many pairs of shoes as possible in the bag with my good clothes. He scowled. "That was Detective MacIver. He told me that the Joker was headed out of town and not to do anything rash."

"Moving out to the manor isn't rash," he growled, and dropped one of the pumps I wore to work back on the closet floor and tied the garbage bag closed.

"At three in the morning or whatever, it is," I stated, and put my Asgardian necklace back on. "We need to make a plan and follow through rather than run panicking off into the night."

"We're listening," Batman said dryly, and I jumped a foot. I hadn't heard them come in; Dick was visible over Bruce's shoulder. Thank god I wore a nightgown now.

I repeated what the detective had said. "I agree. Based on my time with the Joker, I believe that he's going to want some time to get used to life outside the Asylum again, and, more importantly, to reassert his control over his goons, make sure that whatever plans he's made--if he's communicated them to his followers--are solid and tight. That takes time. Time that can be used for an orderly reassessment of my routine, which is my concern, and for you three to do your detective work." I crossed to Damian and snapped the plastic ties of the bag, dumping the shoes for now and putting the crumpled gowns and dresses back in the closet. Damian had not troubled himself to remove them from the hangers.

"Alfred will have a fit if he sees you treating her stuff like that," Dick said.

"Shut it, Grayson," Damian snapped, but there wasn't a lot of heat in the words.

"Just saying that Alex has a point here. Now is not the time to go off half-cocked. We need more information. Look--" through the draperies that had come open some as Damian had barrelled around, we could see the Bat Signal.

"All right," Bruce said, laying down the law. "I will go talk to the Commissioner, find out what they know. Nightwing, you start turning up leads. Robin, you stay here in case we're wrong. You'd be distracted out there anyway and distraction means mistakes. We can't afford any. Alex...well, you stay here too. The Joker prefers to work in darkness." He waited long enough for a grudging nod from his sidekick, then he and Dick left.

"Honey, come sit down," I said, patting the bed. Glaring, he grudgingly perched on the edge of the mattress. "Ok. This is what we know. The Joker has escaped. This is what we think is correct: he's gone out of town and is likely to stay away until the intense reaction to his escape has died down. I'm sure the police are putting up roadblocks, but he's got a big head start and they can't sustain the high level effort for very long. He'll remain a priority, but everybody's scrambling to catch up. We don't know anything else and speculation beyond that at this point is useless and probably harmful as we might be forming assumptions that will hinder our thinking later. So here's the thing. I agree we should move out because it's not fair to risk the safety of everybody else in the hotel and I'm pretty sure Bruce has good defenses out at the manor. However--" I raised my voice slightly as he opened his mouth-- "we will not be doing this now; running around like panicking animals is not smart. What I'm going to do is go back to sleep. You're going to unpack the bags of stuff and calm down, then you're going to join me for the rest of the night because you need sleep too. When the alarm goes off, we'll get up and get ready for work. I will call Alfred and ask if he can pack us up here. Then we'll go to work. After work, I will drive to the manor and we can discuss updates there. I know you're worried about me, and I appreciate that." I scooted over to him and snuggled up. He was still stiff and angry, and I had to tug on his chin to get him to look at me. "But never forget that I am a highly skilled fighter and I've only gotten better in the years since the last time I was at the Joker's mercy. I never want to be in that position again. Never. And at the same time, I'm going to pursue my life in a safe way. I work in a building that is even more secure than Wayne Enterprises and has very secure parking underground. And if I end up staying late at work for some reason, I propose that I stay in the guest quarters rather than risk driving in the dark." Damian was still angry. I gave him a minute to consider. "Damian?"

"Fine," he shot at me, and stood up, ripping into the first bag and shoving things back into drawers. I crawled under the sheet again and waited. Eventually he stopped slamming the drawers and I heard sounds of struggle.

"Want some help with that?" I asked, not moving.

"Please," he said sulkily after a moment. I got up and helped him wrestle out of his costume; his torso and groin were protected with a new rubberized version modeled on Batman's sturdy get-up. He took off his boots but left the fabric trousers on. I didn't quibble about it since I was tired and scared and didn't want to show the scared. "I'm sorry," he burst out as we went to bed. "It's just that I'm so damned pissed off." I cuddled up to him, putting my arm around his chest.

"Me too," I said softly. "But I've never trusted that Arkham would hold him, so I've kind of been waiting for this ever since they put him there in the first place. So we're going to be sensible about this. I'm relying on you to help me keep safe." He relaxed a little at this.

"If he does anything to you, I won't be responsible for my actions," he muttered. I grinned a little and kissed his shoulder.

"Yes you will, because you still care about my good opinion," I chided him gently, kissing his shoulder. He grumbled, but the tone was milder. He kissed my hand, and I went back to sleep.

The next morning I had the first crack at our bathroom because it's hard to get him up if he's tired, but once I got him fairly vertical and in the shower, I called Alfred. Bruce had briefed him very concisely about the Joker, and he had a plan to pack us up already.

"Um...Damian kind of started that earlier," I said, trying to give him a heads up as I looked for a dress that wasn't too crumpled for work. I had to give up. It's not like Tony has a dress code, but I like to look professional. I had to settle for jeans and a light cotton sweater with cute booties.

"But how?" Alfred wondered. "Master Damian can't fit his wardrobe into just his luggage`."

"Er... he was stuffing things into trash bags. You know, those stretchy black Glad bags..."

I could pretty much feel Alfred's shock reverberating up the line.

"Goodness," he said faintly, attempting a chuckle.

"He was quite agitated," I said.

"I imagine. I will see that it is done properly, Miss Alex," he said, and I could just see him stiffening his back.

"I'm certain of that," I said, and we hung up.

I packed a change of clothing and a night shirt in case I had to stay at the tower at some point, and waited for Damian to come out of the bathroom. He was quite yummy, fresh from the shower and his hair sticking up every which way. I regretted that I was dressed for work.

"I called Alfred and he's already got a plan," I told him, crossing for a slightly damp hug and kiss. "So I guess I'll see you at home after work."

He smiled and nuzzled me. "I like the sound of that."

When I got to work, I hunted up my uncle and told him what had happened. His face went grim and flat, but he approved of my removal from the hotel and brightened a little when I told him about my new car. We went down to look at it, and I laughed when he looked at it hungrily and flipped him the keys. He grinned and I went back to the training room to change into my workout clothes and prepare for my first students.

After I got done with that, I showered again and changed before going up to the lab, where I stashed my overnight bag and hunted up Tony. He listened attentively to my warning, and I held up my wrist. "Still got the watch," I said, and he smiled a little.

"Hopefully you won't need to use it," he said, and I agreed. "Yeah, plan to stay if you're at all worried about driving out to that musty old heap of Wayne's, and I'll get you access to the secured level of parking. There's no pedestrian access, only a car lift, so it's as secure as possible." When Bucky returned, we went down and met him, and I learned how the lift worked. It was a little elevator for cars, essentially, and wouldn't work if people were standing on the platform; you had to be inside the vehicle and you had to identify any passengers who didn't normally accompany you. My car was registered with the AI, and Tony took us up to another level I'd never been on. It had a driving simulator which could be customized with the specifications of individual makes and models. Bucky input my car's information and pulled up the first of several defensive driving scenarios. He and Tony brought in coffee and snacks for themselves and critiqued my performance. I got a lot better with evasion tactics, and as the grid was set to Manhattan and the area on the way out to the mansion, I learned the streets a lot better too. It was quite a bit of fun, even given the circumstances.

I went up to the lab after a late lunch and worked until quitting time at five. Tony shooed me out after tossing me a can of specialty pepper spray, telling me offhandedly that medical had come up with it and it had an agent in it keyed to my biomarkers that would prevent the spray from being used against me. Nice.

Once I wrested free of the gridlock in the city, I relaxed on the drive out to the manor, enjoying my car's handling and how the wrought-iron security gate rolled open at my approach. I had to pull up to the house, not sure where Alfred wanted me to park. That gentleman came down the steps to open my door and told me to leave it there, that he would take care of it and have it ready for me the next morning. Wow. He took my jacket and purse (after I'd fumbled my phone out of it) and arranged them in the cloak room.

I know, right?

"I took the liberty of arranging your things in a suite on the third floor," he told me, escorting me to the elevator. "Master Bruce is quartered on the second floor, and I felt that you and Master Damian would prefer your own space." We went down the hall and Alfred opened the door directly across from the door to the conservatory, which had a glass wall and door. The first thing I noticed was the high trayed ceiling. The walls were a pleasant, light blue-green, leaning toward the green side. The decorative molding between the wall and ceiling , the edge by the shift in the ceiling, and the top of the ceiling was all gilded a light gold; the recessed part of the ceiling a warm ivory, and the lower part a pretty dark peach. There was a fireplace on the short wall with a glorious art nouveau mantle and lined with floral tiles that harmonized with the paint color; a poker and brush set were off to the side and a stack of firewood was placed neatly on one end of the hearth. The floor and window casings were a rich aged cherry, and beautiful faded Persian carpets warmed the floor. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from a beautiful medallion, and the furniture was a pleasing mix of dark woods. There was a graceful four poster bed with draperies slightly darker than the walls, nightstands, a pier glass, a pair of bureaus, and a loveseat. A door by the fireplace led into a short hall, then to an extraordinary walk-in closet. My evening gowns and cocktail dresses were behind glass doors (I noticed in passing that the wrinkles were all gone); there was shelving for dress shoes and a glassed-in cabinet for wraps and purses. Next to that was an area where my suits, dresses, and slacks hung, shelving for sweaters and accessories, drawers for unmentionables and one specially fitted up for everyday jewelry, and Damian and I shared the shelves for shoes. Damian's clothes were similarly arranged, but it was his tuxedos and white tie behind the glassed in area. There was a padded bench to sit on, recessed lighting, and personal safes in each of the formal cupboards behind the hanging garments. They had biometric locks, and Alfred showed me how to add my print to both mine and Damian's. 

Alfred directed me back into the bedroom and chivvied me to the other end, where a door led to a sumptuous en-suite bathroom. It was a wonderful blend of modern and old-fashioned; a separate glassed-in shower was comfortable by a white cast-iron tub. The floor was dark wood-patterned ceramic tile with radiant heating (Alfred showed me the switch), the wainscotting was crisp white, and the paint a vibrant dark blue-violet. There was a toilet placed unobtrusively and his and her sinks with oval mirrored medicine cabinets, between which was a built-in storage unit with lots of fluffy white towels, extra rolls of TP, space for our personal things, some empty silver-lidded apothecary glass jars, and one filled with (I smelled) a relaxing floral bath salt. One with a plain top held Epsom salts. "I felt that you and Master Damian would want to add your choices as well," Alfred said.

"This is amazing," I said.

"Master Bruce suggested this suite for the pair of you," he said. "He had the house updated several years ago and the bathroom was substantially changed; he switched out the furniture as well. There were several alternatives in the attic. If you and Master Damian would like to change anything, you may wish to poke around up there."

"It's a little overwhelming," I said, looking around, "but it's absolutely wonderful." Alfred smiled.

"I'll leave you to settle in," he said. "Masters Bruce and Damian should be home in a half hour or so. Did you have any trouble in your car with the gate?"

"Not a bit," I said. "It worked perfectly. I felt like I was driving a James Bond car, only without the gadgets." His eyes twinkled, and he took his leave. I poked around a little, overwhelmed, then went across to the conservatory. There was comfortable furniture to sit on, but it seemed... I don't know. It wasn't neglected, it was weeded and watered, but it just didn't feel very welcoming. The door opened behind me, and I turned to see Damian there, looking a little worse for wear from the lack of sleep.

"Honey," I said, and stepped into his hug, snuggling tight.

"Sweet pea," he said, looking around. "This is kind of...sparse. My grandmother started it, but she didn't get very far before she was killed. I looked up at him; he smiled and kissed me lightly. "Maybe we should take it over. Plant our special flowers. Sweet peas. Red roses. Other stuff. It could be a permanent dictionary of our feelings."

"Do the windows open?" I asked. "Because we'd need bees to pollinate."

"We'll need to look into that," he said, then sighed. "After this mess is cleared up. Let's go check out our room." He tugged me toward the door.

"Alfred showed me earlier."

"What did you think?" he asked as he held the door for me.

"Wow. Just...wow."

"Wow," he echoed, looking around. He smiled at the hangings on the bed. "Dad had insulation sprayed in the walls and the windows upgraded, but there are still pesky drafts. On cold nights, you draw the hangings and they really do keep some extra warmth in."

"Sounds intimate," I said, and he grinned. We discovered that the lights were all on dimmers, that a discreet lock had been installed on the door (we both laughed, but it was a really nice touch) and Damian was as impressed as I was.

"I never really explored the rooms up here after he had them redone," he said. Then he yawned. "We've got about forty-five minutes until dinner. Wanna take a nap?" I agreed instantly, being a little tired myself, and the last thing we learned right then was that the bed was unbelievably comfortable.

We woke up when his phone alarm went off, set ourselves to rights, and went down for our first dinner living in the house.


	19. Settling in

When we got downstairs, we saw that in addition to Bruce and Alfred, we'd be dining with Dick and Ms Gordon. "Call me Barbara," she said cheerfully. Dinner was light conversation, then over cheesecake, Dick proposed that we go down to the bat cave.

"Bruce said he'd seen an impressive demonstration of your fighting technique," he said, squinting at me a little. "When did you start taking lessons?"

"I was in high school...junior year." Dick smirked.

"Well, I've been training since I was a kid," he said. "I'll go easy on you." I saw Bruce look heavenward, and Damian smirked at him but said nothing. Barbara looked between us but didn't say anything. We went down to the training room. I'd never been in it; it was uncomfortably like a high school gymnasium with wood floors (they must have a heck of a dehumidifier), mats, climbing ropes, and gymnastics equipment. I remembered Damian telling me that Dick's birth parents had been circus acrobats and that they'd had a family act. I presumed that after so long under Bruce's tutelage, he'd be a skilled fighter, but I also knew he wasn't enhanced. And he was assuming things about me.

The others stood against the wall as Dick and I squared off. I let him attack first, let him do his thing a little. Show me his training and technique. He was very good; he used escrima sticks, threw in some capoeira and gymnastics. I was getting good at identifying the different martial arts of the world. He jumped and twisted over my head, intending to drop behind me and try to defeat me there, but it was easy to put him down as soon as he'd landed. He blinked up at me, a little dazed. "Anybody can get lucky," he said cuttingly as he bounced to his feet and we squared off again. This time I got him in an arm lock right from the get go, disarmed him, and put him down. He was pissed when he got to his feet.

"Surely you remember," I said peacefully. "My uncle is Bucky Barnes. When I was in school, I trained several days a week with him, something I picked up when I returned to New York. I boxed when I was in college and grad school, learned a few things there too."

Dick's pissiness was replaced by a look of calculation. Apparently that had slipped his mind. "May I?" Bruce asked, and I nodded. Dick stepped back and the three on the wall had eager expressions. Alfred looked inscrutable.

Bruce was a different kettle of fish; he'd been training hard and for a lot longer than his sons. And he was a non-powered superhero who deserved my respect. He turned out to provide the best workout I could get outside Bucky. I brightened up. Bruce used a mixture of Asian martial arts as well as brawling technique that would take care of most people. He was taller, more muscular, and heavier than I was, but I had my enhancements (Hank had tested me again shortly after I got back to New York and discovered that my genetic drift hadn't quite finished; I was now six times stronger than a woman of my height and build should be, but it looked like I'd plateaued there. The dance combat ability had likewise grown, but it didn't tend to really kick in unless I was working hard) which Hank had assured me was still quite rare. We fought for a good five minutes, longer than I would normally allow, but it was fun and I was learning a lot about Batman's skillset. I finally flattened him with the developpe-based kick that had flattened Thor. It did the same thing for Bruce.

I prudently stepped away from Bruce and bowed to him. "Well done, Miss Alex," Alfred said, and I smiled at him. Dick looked dumbfounded.

"Did I mention I have some enhancements, a good decade of dance training, and I'm in line to take over as the Avengers' combat trainer when Bucky steps down?" I said pleasantly.

"I think you're holding back," Bruce said, getting to his feet. His look was analytical rather than upset, I was glad to see.

"I am a little. It's a demonstration, not a serious fight."

"If you'll wait a moment, Alex," Bruce said, and I nodded. He faded back and Damian came up.

"Impressive, Sweet pea," he said, handing me a towel. "You look pretty when you fight."

"That's the dance combat thing," I said.

"You're very flexible," Dick said. "Is that from the dance training?" I nodded.

"Ballet."

"Did you ever take gymnastics? Because you're limber enough."

"Nope, I was all about the tulle and the toe shoes," I said, smiling.

"There's a visual," Dick muttered, but he smiled. "I could teach you some acrobatics if you'd show me the basics of your fighting system."

"It's systema, so it's not some big HYDRA secret," I said.

"Isn't that a Soviet method?"

"It was, it's still being used by Russia," I said, remembering Bucky's history lessons, and briefed them on the development of the fighting system. We were interrupted by the arrival of Batman. Now this, the thick rubber costume, would mean that I could go full out and the damage I could inflict would be much less.

I bowed to Batman, then closed to a fighting range. I could tell instantly that this was a whole different thing. Bruce was different too, not pulling any punches, even a little. The difference was that he was protected and I was not. He landed some blows and strikes, but I was going full out, and I had that kinetic energy absorbing ability, so I could keep it up for much longer than expected. But eventually I could feel my reserves draining, and I put all I had into a feint that put Bruce off balance, then I threw him down and struck so that my heel would have gone into his eye socket if I hadn't stopped the blow inches from his face. I held it long enough for everybody to recognize what the outcome would have been, then stepped back.

Then I had to take a moment. Going full out exertion after a filling dinner is not the thing to do. We do this again, it won't be after a meal.

I looked over. Everybody was surprised; Dick's mouth was actually hanging open. Damian was part 'I can't believe my girlfriend just beat up my dad,' part pride, and part disbelief. Barbara was surprised but also had a smirk. Alfred's eyebrows were stuck halfway up to his hairline. Barbara pushed off the wall and came over to me. "Respect the sisterhood," she said, and we tapped fists.

Bruce got to his feet. "That time I could tell that you had strength enhancement," he said, nodding. "What you call dance combat makes you kind of slippery, like a fish in water."

"You weren't using your tools either, that put you at a disadvantage," I pointed out. Bruce frowned.

"Perhaps I rely on my tech too much," he said. Then it was time for everyone to gear up for their night's work. I kissed Damian goodbye, told him to come back in one piece, and left the bat cave after a quick session with the accelerator to take care of a bruise on my cheek. A hot bath after that demonstration sounded good.

The next few days were devoted to the establishment of a new routine. I got up earlier to get into the city before the traffic was horrible, leaving work at five, and learning my way around the city better since Bucky and Tony had me using the driving simulator each day. Scenarios got more difficult with increasing numbers of pedestrians and other hazards, areas where I could use speed, and areas where that wasn't possible. Pursuit grew from one car to an organized effort of three. It was kind of a nightmare but really good training. And I mixed up my routes in and out each day, never coming exactly the same way.

My work as a trainer fell into a routine too. Most of the hand-to-hand fighters had training, mostly in the Asian martial arts, but everybody also learned systema and we encouraged them to blend their personal styles to make them harder to defeat. Bucky was furthering my personal training by looking for instructors in lerdrit, a Thai system that had similarities with Muay Thai but focused on attacks without warning, taking the opponent to the ground immediately and finishing them, specifically designed for life or death situations, and bakom from Peru, a very hard cross between street fighting and jujutsu that uses deception, bone snapping arm locks, merciless chokeholds, and strikes to vital organs at a rapid pace designed to overwhelm opponents before they can defend themselves. First, though, he brought in an instructor in capoeira to work one on one with me to develop my dance combat. My master didn't attempt to teach me the whole capoeira system but watched me work out with Bucky and decided on elements that I could incorporate into my personal style, and I started training with that. Bucky liked the idea so much of developing sort of a polyglot, highly personal system that he began investigating instructors and practitioners in as many different styles as he could find and vet so that we could use the approach where it would make sense with our students. He also found a ninjutsu practitioner so I could pick up tricks with tools; again, not learning the whole system but adding elements for my personal arsenal.

Upstairs, I was making progress bioengineering our selective strains of bacterias and algaes, but with just under a hundred generations under my belt, we still had a long way to go. Tony was designing a variety of bio-solar cells to test our cyanobacteria, so progress was definite. Emma was working on creating some perfectly pure gold electrodes that we could use to harvest electric current from algae's photosynthesis process. I was excited by our progress.

Headlines about the Joker's escape died down pretty fast, and media coverage in general declined as the Joker kept himself hidden. MacIver had discovered how the Joker had transmitted messages--the tics in his hands were shown not to be tics at all but Morse code, transmitted in bursts of activity. Sometimes it took several hours to transmit a couple of concise sentences. The guards at the asylum were immediately suspected and investigated, and a pattern was teased out based on who was working in the monitoring room and who had access to the Joker personally. In all, a guard who had transferred in from a maximum-security prison, a kitchen worker who often brought Joker his meals, and a psychologist who reviewed the recordings to monitor the Joker's mental state were brought in for more questioning. It took awhile for the police to find somebody who knew Morse code well enough to uncover the messages in the gestures (nowadays, only hobbyists knew it well) and longer for the expert to discern when a message was being sent versus random tics meant to keep up the deception that the Joker was more feeble than he really was. But most days, there was a message, repeated twice at different times, that specified a person should be contacted and code words spoken. The contact person was one of three code names, Chet, Dave, or Lara. It was suspected that the code words were for specific, preplanned actions. The psychologist was quickly cleared, but the guard turned out to be one of Joker's thugs. They tracked the real guard to a small, freestanding house that sported a thick layer of dust throughout. A John Doe fished out of a river six years before was DNA matched to hair found in the house. And the kitchen worker was paid to call an anonymous phone number and report when the Joker made eye contact when his meals were delivered. It linked up that the eye contact episodes preceded a Morse code message the following day. 

Interestingly, crime in the city went down overall, but especially among the supervillains. Damian told me that Catwoman said they were waiting to see what the Joker was planning. The only thing that was known about his plans was that he definitely remembered me. A lavishly wrapped box addressed to me was delivered by courier to the St. Regis, who contacted me. I wasn't expecting anything and had no orders pending that might have been shipped to my old address, so I alerted MacIver. Inside was a brightly painted grenade filled with the aerosol version of Joker venom. Interestingly, it wasn't booby trapped to release the gas when the box was opened, and MacIver thought that it was a warning to me that I hadn't been forgotten, a way to heighten my dread. As to how he knew where I'd stayed, local media published pictures of me and Damian that identified me as his girlfriend; an earlier brief profile of Damian in one of those "30 under 30 to watch" lists had noted that he was living in the St Regis.

I told Damian, Bruce, and Alfred after dinner. Damian was enraged. Like, red faced, clenched fists, and potty-mouthed. When his vocabulary of English cursing ran out, he switched to Arabic, his first language, and apparently started over. Bruce, Alfred, and I waited patiently for him to run out of profanity, but I had to intervene when he ripped a gracefully curved shamshir off the wall in the library. It would have been more interesting for a neutral observer at that point; his manners and civility melted away and his differences from Bruce became more pronounced with his rage. He was shorter and slighter than his father, but normally you didn't notice this because he walked and moved with assurance. Now he prowled with the grace of an assassin and I recognized his training in the movements.

I interposed myself in front of him and spoke his name. I didn't touch him, though, he was so tightly wound that he might use that sword. I wasn't afraid for myself; Damian would never hurt me, but there were priceless books and artifacts all over the place. I had to repeat his name, loudly, for his attention to focus on me, and I held my hands out for the sword. It took several moments for enough rage to trickle away before his sense asserted itself again and he reluctantly handed it over. I leaned it against a bookshelf and took his hands. He squeezed mine tightly enough to hurt, but I ignored it.

"I'm going to find that fucker and kill him," Damian said flatly.

"We don't kill," Bruce said from behind me. "We have a code of ethics." Damian growled at his father and they started to argue. I wasn't against the idea of the Joker being killed, I just didn't want Damian to have to do it. He'd been through enough in his life, and besides, if anybody was going to kill the Joker, I got first dibs. I could probably get away with it, too, if I was in a self-defense situation where I legitimately felt like it was him or me. So I took another tack.

I pulled him around enough so that he was only looking at me. "Damian, honey, what if we have kids? Do you want them knowing that you killed somebody? Especially if they enter the family business?" His resolve softened, then his expression hardened.

"I've already killed. And I will do anything to protect you."

"Do you want our kids to think that killing is something that is acceptable for them too?" I asked gently, and that stopped him. He glowered at me for several seconds.

"I guess not," he muttered, and finally I pressed myself to him in a hug. I heard a sigh behind us and sounds of movement as Alfred began to clear away the coffee cups.

"Come down to the bat cave when you're ready, son," Bruce said, and he left the library.

"I keep needing to tell myself that you're a superb fighter," Damian said, still holding me tight.

"That's right, honey, I am. And I've still got the watch with the tracker," I reminded him. "Just to be safe, I'll run a test tomorrow to make sure that it still works right. If I can't get away, I'm counting on you to swoop in and save the day."

I felt him stand a little straighter. "That's right, Sweet pea. I'll always come for you. Even if it's just to give you a ride home after you've kicked his ass." I grinned as he started to laugh, then he kissed me and walked out the door, still chuckling.

"That was well done, Miss Alex," Alfred said as I picked up the sword and placed it back in its niche. "Master Damian sometimes reverts to his early upbringing and it can be difficult to remind him that he is no longer Ra's al Ghul's tool." He nodded at the sword. "That was his grandfather's weapon. Master Damian took it from him. He is a master swordsman; it was part of his training with the League of Assassins." He gave me a long look. "Their training was merciless and pitiless, something no child should be forced to endure, but it did give him superlative skill. He knows as many martial arts as Master Bruce and is stealthy and acrobatic, although not to the extent of Master Dick. Master Damian, when he was brought to us, had no compunction about using his talents and skills to their fullest extent, as he'd been trained to do. It was difficult to teach him restraint and I greatly appreciate your moderating effect on him." Looking at Alfred, I had the uncomfortable feeling he knew I'd called dibs on the Joker.

"By the way, Miss Alex," he continued casually. "I have given some thought to your vehicle and have determined that there are a few minor modifications that I could perform to give you some defensive capabilities, should you be interested."

I got really interested very quickly. "Really?" I asked excitedly, and he inclined his head, a small smile on his face.

"If you could go to and from work with Master Damian for a few days, I could install them."

"I think that's completely fine. I'm sure Damian won't mind."

"I expect that you are correct, Miss Alex."

Damian didn't mind a bit when I asked him the next morning. "More time with you, Sweet pea, is at the top of my list of priorities."

We chatted about his evening investigations, then he said ruefully, "Dad got really excited when he heard that we'd discussed having kids. I had a hard time restraining his enthusiasm. I had to point out, more than once, that we weren't at the stage of our relationship where that was more than a possibility." He sighed. "Turns out that I'm a lot more traditional than I thought. If we have a family, I want to do it the old-fashioned way--"

"With sex, not IVF, right?" I said brightly, and he rolled his eyes and smiled.

"That too, Alex. But I want us to get married first, enjoy our time as newlyweds first before we start trying to have kids. And we're not really at the point yet where I want to propose marriage to you. It's not that I can't see myself with you for the long term, it's just that...my family is weird. We do weird things at night." I burst into laughter. "And you're fitting in beautifully, but I want to give you time to adjust, time to be certain. There's no hurry, is there?" he ended, rather plaintively.

"No, not as far as I'm concerned," I said, putting my hand on his and squeezing slightly. My hands were a little sore from when he'd taken them the night before. He had a very strong grip. "And here's one more thing to consider. I won't marry you without a pre-nup. I can't imagine not wanting to spend the rest of my life with you, but in case the worst happens, I want to protect you from me. I can be vindictive, so I won't marry you without one."

"Alex, you're no gold-digger," he said impatiently.

"No, but I can carry a grudge like nobody's business, and if we get a divorce, I don't expect I'll have a lot of self-control. I expect that we'll file it away and never look at it again, but I want you to be protected, honey."

"Alex, you're the weirdest, most perfect woman I know," he sighed, downshifting. "I'll take that under advisement." I left it at that; I had made my position clear, and there wasn't any rush on it. I reminded him that I was going to do a test of my watch's security function some time that day and kissed him goodbye enthusiastically.

At the beginning of my session in the driving simulator, I told Bucky and Tony that I wanted to test the device; I hadn't removed their numbers when I added Damian's, feeling the larger the cavalry, the better. I pulled out the watch stem and the text messages popped up promptly. I reassured Damian with a text that this had been the test, and Tony got an abstracted look on his face. "I have a couple of ideas for improvements," he said. "Keep that one for now. I'd forgotten you had it." I went upstairs to check my algae feeling pretty cheerful, all things considered.


	20. New toys

The days stretched into a little over a week before Alfred told me that my car was done. Damian had to go into the city with Bruce for a conference call with Beijing, so it was just us as he had me sit in the driver's seat and explained what an unobtrusive row of softly backlit buttons did. The first one released caltrops onto the road. Interestingly, they were held in a solution (didn't ask) and as the fluid ran off the caltrops, they would fall apart within thirty seconds. Essentially, they would puncture the tires of a vehicle close behind, then all that there would be was a damp piece of pavement with some small pieces of metal from the ones that didn't drive into the tires. And even the ones imbedded in the tires fell apart, allowing the tires to flatten even more quickly with little to show for the blown out tires.

"Ooh," I said appreciatively, and Alfred allowed himself a small smile.

The second button released a cloud of clinging, oily black fog. It worked best when the tailing car was about ten meters behind my bumper, which allowed the fog to rise enough to coat the windshield.

"If you are being boxed in by two vehicles, the bumpers have been reinforced with graphene and stabilized so that you can ram the forward car or allow the trailing car to hit the back with no damage to the body of your vehicle," Alfred instructed. "The third button releases about a cup of low friction graphite balls that break down with exposure to oxygen and create a slick surface which should send the pursuit sliding off the road. It dries within three seconds and becomes dust, eliminating risk to cars farther back." The fourth button was a homing beacon, and Alfred urged me to press it at the first sign of trouble. Activation would show up in the bat cave and on Damian's cell phone (once the app was installed) and the signal was as close to unjammable as possible. He had also installed a formidable turbocharger.

"That probably voids my warranty, right?" I cracked, and Alfred chuckled.

"It does, but any servicing of your vehicle can be done here," Alfred said. When I asked, I learned that there was an extensive shop tucked away behind the house, and Alfred offered to show it to me. There was one additional trick to learn about, and it tucked into the door pocket. I opened a pouch that contained a pair of swimming goggles, a waterproof flashlight with LED bulb, and a strange- looking bar. He informed me that if I were to bite down on the protrusion and seal my lips around it that it would concentrate oxygen, allowing me to breathe underwater should my car be forced into water.

"Wow," I said, and he looked pleased.

"I also noted that you did not have an emergency kit for less hostile events and added one to your boot," he said, so I popped out and took a look. It had jumper cables to give someone else a boost, a small unit that stuck into the 12V outlet to jump my battery, a first aid kit, emergency blankets along with a tightly rolled wool blanket, other equipment packed into a discreet gray bag. 

We drove back to the shop, where I saw that in addition to normal mechanic shop tools and lift that there was a body shop as well, where sheet metal could be repaired, improved, and/or replaced, equipment for painting, and a third bay where modifications could be engineered. Alfred showed me this crazy cool metal 3D printer. I could see bins where bags of the graphite balls and caltrops were stored, ready to be installed at a moment's notice. Everything from oil changes to the installation of complicated electronics could be handled here.

That Monday was also a great day at work. Tony returned my Brass Rat; he'd had it modified. There was a band placed into the shank of the ring that could be released by squeezing and holding the "MIT" and year carvings on the opposite sides. The point of the band was sharpened and the underside coated with a powerful sedative; a scratch could incapacitate a 200 pound person in seven seconds. He also gave me an improved watch; it was about the same size as the one I had, but the tracker signal was much stronger, more precise, included elevations, and updated every other second. It still had a compass, and a small but powerful flashlight had been added. If I pulled the stem out entirely (and it took a good yank) a powerful alarm sounded. Tony told me that if used in small spaces that it could rupture eardrums, and he recommended using it only for short bursts. Replacing the pin would stop the alarm but would not stop the tracker unless I shoved it all the way in.

I knew a lot of very clever people.

We spent the rest of the week scaling up our algae experiments and settling on seaweed as the next stage. We designed a tank with a filtration system and a motor-driven system that would mimic the action of tides for realism. The next week, we built the thing. I was learning a lot about both mechanical engineering and fabrication. 

As we started to roll through April, I was also learning a lot downstairs; my ninjutsu instructor didn't see any point to instructing me in the full eighteen skills of ninjutsu--some, like meteorology, I could find out about by watching TV, and I already knew how to ride a horse (I'd taken a class in horsemanship at MIT.) We weren't doing unarmed combat because I had a good base in that from Systema and capoiera, I wasn't going to use a spear or sword or polearms, or the chain-sickle weapon, and I knew how to meditate. He was teaching me how to use a bo, which could be a staff of any material or length (anything from a metal pipe to a length of bamboo or a traditional wooden staff,) and to throw a variety of shuriken accurately. I could practice these skills at home; both Bruce and Damian knew the techniques and would spar with me or offer corrections or insight into my throwing technique. I had to learn chi-mon, or geography, which turned out to be more encompassing and interesting than I'd thought, as I studied physical and human geography, integrated geography, geomatics, and regional geography. I missed Margaret acutely during the work on regional geography as it included urban planning. There was sui-ren, or water combat, where I learned breath control, how to deal with multiple attackers in the water, how to use small boats (I'd taken a class at MIT), how to hide in water, ways to transport and purify water, and how to use water as a weapon by weakening or destroying bridges or dams, contaminating a water supply, or withholding water from captives. That last discipline was theoretical only, I didn't practice using water as a weapon. There was shinobi-iri, stealth and concealment techniques--running and walking silently, lock picking, breaking in, how to hide, timing, analysis of defenses and guards, the use of noise for distraction. My instructor recommended going up to hide, as in trees, as people tend not to look up when they're searching. There was kayakujutsu, literally the art of using gunpowder in applications other than guns. This was more historical study, but I was diligent because Batman used better, more advanced pyrotechnics. Both Damian and I studied Bruce's methods. Intonjutsu--escape and concealment, also incorporating wilderness survival techniques and field craft as well as overlapping with shinobi-iri. Choho, espionage and infiltration. Hensojutsu, disguise and impersonation for short periods of time, which incorporated sociological and psychological analysis, and finally bōryaku, tactics, which focused on unorthodox tactics and strategies as well as the manipulation of politics and the exploitation of current events. The basics were easy enough to learn, but to master them, or even get good at them was the real challenge that would take time and sustained effort. I also learned the use of devices like the shuko, a spiked iron band worn around the hand that enabled the wearer to use it as a defense against sword attacks and also to reach higher terrain, as it could be used to climb trees or walls, especially when worn with ashika which were worn on the feet.

I practiced my developing skills in a variety of settings, learning how to glide soundlessly in evening pumps and long dresses, analyzing the guards at an event at a museum. Damian was amused by it; I enjoyed trying to sneak up on him and startle him. Startled a few others as well. I couldn't indulge myself much in public, though, as I didn't want people to take note. At home was a different matter, and a test of skills as the old house was creaky and it was acceptable at work too. I stopped sneaking up on Alfred right after I startled him and he dropped a bowl of cake batter. I helped clean up, but the punishment was no cupcakes. I learned my lesson.

There was no news on the Joker, and the criminal underworld went back to business as usual. I always practiced the art of observation in crowds, but saw nobody who looked like him. Not that I really expected to. I figured that when he came after me, he'd send thugs I didn't know. So I kept an eye out for anybody suspicious looking. In New York, that actually included a lot of people on the street.

Toward the end of the month, I set up a few things and took Damian to Badass Brooklyn Animal Rescue (Saving Badass Dogs From Idiot Humans), where he fell in love with a senior Great Dane/ Malinois who was advertised as getting along well with cats. I thought he'd go for a younger dog, but he rightly said that older dogs need love too. He named the dog Hestia. Then we went to Bideawee and found a pair of cats. Damian burst out laughing when he saw an elegant Russian Blue kitten named Grayson. Belaying his aristocratic appearance, Grayson turned out to be a real ham, so of course he had to join the clan. I chose a solid, relaxed two-year old black cat with bright copper colored eyes. He was apparently a British shorthair mixed with something that had an especially thick coat; his fur was ultraplushy and soft. He had a huge purr and a tiny squeaky voice, and he enjoyed cuddling. I named him Winston. He was a bit rotund and looked very smart, so I thought naming him after Churchill was appropriate. We didn't have any trouble getting approved for the adoptions, and picked them all up the next weekend. We borrowed the Rolls so there'd be enough room for Hestia and both cat carries. Hestia got a nice black collar for her tags, and Grayson and Winston had collars as well; Grayson had a royal blue one, and Winston sported a light green one that pretty much sank and disappeared into his fur.

We thought we'd surprise everybody, and we succeeded. Bruce dropped his coffee cup when we introduced Hestia, who was polite but not really impressed and curled up in front of the fireplace. The cats were a lot more cautious, investigating the library carefully and cautiously before braving Bruce. Winston decided he was trustworthy enough and flopped down on the desk, right across the paper that Bruce had been reading. This encouraged Bruce to pet, and once Winston felt that Bruce had been swayed to his side sufficiently, hopped off the desk and meatloafed on a sofa. Grayson let everybody pet him, then cuddled up with Hestia, who poked him with her nose and nudged him closer with her paw. When Alfred came in with coffee and cinnamon rolls, he was charmed by the new family members, especially Winston, who took to him immediately. Damian snapped a picture of the kitten and sent it to Dick, who was a little irritated to have a pet named after him but he liked the lithe look of the silvery creature.

Damian left the room to set up litterboxes and I went through the bags of extras, popping price tags and plastic loops off grooming tools and toys, setting aside packets of treats. Bruce observed this silently, then opened a cabinet at the base of one of the bookshelves, removed a few things, and offered it to me. Grayson scuttled in when he heard the treats being opened, and I gave each of the kitties a few Greenies and Hestia Milk Bone before putting everything--barring some of the toys--into the cabinet. Winston seized a green gingham mouse and immediately took charge of it, retreating under a sofa to try to kick the stuffing out of it, and Grayson batted a ball with a jingle bell into the hall. The sound gradually faded. We were going to need more toys. The manor was big.

Right after tax day, I got a text from Damian that he'd had to go to the doctor for a new cough that was making him miserable and that the diagnosis was bronchitis. Alfred said he had everything covered, so I waited until work was over to rush home. I was forewarned; Alfred had said his manners had retreated to his childhood behavior. A lot of guys did, making vast mountain ranges out of a molehill illness. I had to stop for some personal products on the way home, so I went to a supermarket and picked up some Otter Pops as well. Damian had told him once that he liked them as a kid when he had the flu.

I hustled up to our bedroom and found Damian in his pajamas, looking mulish as he lay in bed, the sheets and blankets twisted and disarranged. Bruce was there as well, arms folded and cross-looking. Alfred had a thermometer and was trying to talk Damian into putting it under his tongue. I surveyed the scene, took the thermometer, and sat on the side of the bed. "Damian, honey, we need to take your temperature," I said, and when he opened his mouth to protest, stuck it in, keeping it in place. He swatted at me, but I gave him a stern look until the thermometer beeped. He was running a slight fever. I gave it to Alfred, who shared it with Bruce. "Honey, let me help you feel better," I said, reaching for his pillow to fluff it up.

"I don't see how you can," he said bitingly, coughing. When he got more air, he continued, "I'm sick. I don't want to fuck." Behind me, I heard a glass hit the hardwood floor and shatter. I just stared at him, not quite sure I'd heard correctly, but he was glaring at me.

"Damian Thomas Wayne! That is not acceptable language," I said sternly, slitting my eyes at him. My hand itched to slap him and my skin was tight with anger. "Being ill isn't an excuse to treat the people who care about you badly, young man. You can just lie there and think about what you said." Oh my dear and fluffy lord. I was channeling my mom. She said exactly those words to J when he'd been laid up with an appendectomy. And he'd mostly been whiny, hadn't even said anything nearly that bad.

I got up immediately, stuffed some lingerie into the grocery store bag, marched into the bathroom for cosmetics and shampoo, hit the walk-in closet for clothes and shoes to wear to work, and stomped out of the room, closing the door behind me. I hear Bruce shouting as I started downstairs. I stopped on the second floor, wondering which rooms were vacant; I didn't want to just poke around. Alfred, that lovely man, caught up with me as I stared down the hallway.

"I apologize for Master Damian, Miss Alex. I did mention he had reverted to his childlike habits."

"I didn't fully realize what that meant," I muttered. "You guys deserve Nobel Peace Prizes for putting up with him."

"He could be difficult," Alfred conceded. "Might I ask what your intentions are?"

"Finding a bedroom until Damian pulls his head out and isn't contagious," I said, sighing. Alfred relaxed slightly. Then he smiled with a definite edge of smirk. "Allow me to show you to an unused room, miss." We went down the hall a bit and he opened one of the doors. "This was Master Damian's room when he was growing up. He hasn't really used it since he went to college." I looked around.

"I can't believe I never thought to ask where his room used to be," I said, turning around. Alfred smirked, then left the room briefly. I looked at the posters on the silk-covered walls, then started to laugh. It was a bizarre assemblage of some martial arts posters, models in extremely scanty lingerie, and some images of girls from popular TV shows of ten years ago. All the girls were cute, wholesome girls-next-door. Including, I was amused to see, Buffy Summers and Hannah Montana directly across from the bed. On the wall by the closet were tacked pictures from high school dances. He looked cute but not fully formed, usually in a tux, always with a series of blonde girls. Alfred came back in with sheets, and I helped him make the bed; he disappeared briefly into the bathroom with fresh towels. 

"Dinner will be at the usual time, Miss Alex," Alfred said, and left just as Winston came in, curious about a new room. I hefted him in my arms for a snuggle, and he purred as we both looked around. The walls were gray, the wood the same pretty cherry as upstairs, but the floor had been considerably scuffed. When Winston began to wiggle, I put him down on the bed, a four-poster with dark blue curtains, but smaller than the one we usually shared. The bureau and desk were walnut, also rather battered. I shook my head and hung my clothes in the closet, empty but for the cedar lining. I pulled out a bureau drawer to put away my lingerie and came across an opened but unused box of condoms, seven years expired, as well as some designer tighty-whities. I was glad he'd graduated to boxers. The bathroom was tiled in white with black accents. This room was under the conservatory, so it had a different view than the one I was used to.

I went down early to take care of the litterboxes and to take Hestia outside before it got too dark. I threw a tennis ball for her until she got tired of it and it got chilly. Dinner was trout, homemade dinner rolls, and a hearty salad with brownies for dessert. I had no idea how Alfred had managed it with dealing with Damian at the same time. Afterward, we repaired to the library. I groomed Hestia and Grayson while Bruce checked on his offspring. "He's very subdued," Bruce reported, "but he's not apologetic." I rolled my eyes. Damian was going to have to apologize. Feeling awful wasn't an excuse to be rude. "Where did Alfred put you?"

"Damian's old room." Bruce and I smirked at each other.

"He had a fascination with sit-coms," his father said, picking up a sheaf of papers to review. "They helped him understand American social mores a bit when he first got here, then I think he was curious about how kids without a bat cave lived." Darn it. Now I felt some sympathy toward him.

I got my tablet from my bag and started to read, pausing after a chapter to check my email. I must have made a noise, because Bruce asked if everything was all right.

"Yeah, I just got an email from J," I said.

"How is your brother doing?" he inquired.

"Gearing up for finals," I said. "He's stopping in the city afterward before going up to see mom and dad; he's got a couple weeks between finals and summer session."

"It doesn't sound like you're really excited to see him," Bruce observed after a moment.

"I'm still a little upset with him," I admitted reluctantly. "He still doesn't seem to understand why I don't want some stranger poking around my DNA, and I'm still a little hurt that he rejected our plans." I sighed. "I'd been looking forward to working with him. I missed him when I came here for high school. It's his right to change his mind, though, and I don't want him to be unhappy."

"I don't think that's all there is to it," he observed.

I scowled. Bruce was too perceptive at times. "I'm kind of mad at him about that, though," I finally admitted. "I worked hard to find a way to make it possible for us to work together. And now my whole masters is going to be wasted."

"What would you have done instead?" he asked curiously.

"I would have liked to have spent another year at MIT," I said wistfully. "I've been really focused and on a time line since high school. It would have been wonderful just to relax slightly, take more classes just for fun and the knowledge, maybe minor in something, not simply to be done in four years and off to the next step. Maybe taken a gap year before grad school, traveled some. I could have done my grad school at MIT, with some of my old professors. I wouldn't have studied kinesiology, that's for sure. But that's my own fault. I expected J to know what he wanted then too. We'd have both been better off not making plans, I think." And now I was sad about the missed opportunities too. I told myself to buck up, at least I'd been able to find a job in my field that I really enjoyed.

I looked up, startled, when Bruce patted my shoulder. "I'm sorry things didn't work out the way you'd have liked, but you don't seem unhappy now to me."

"I'm not unhappy," I said, "Damian's current behavior notwithstanding." Bruce smiled. "It's not what I thought I wanted, but I really like my life, and I'm fortunate, really lucky, to have the job that I do. I get to work out, help others, then go upstairs and really use my brain. Hopefully we'll be making a real difference there too."

"Worried about Stark at all?"

"Not this time," I said, thinking about it. "He seems a lot more stable than he used to. It's like he's made peace with things in his life, and now what he's doing is making him happier. His natural state is to be wound a little tight," I offered, "but he's not so tight that he's going to break. He's driven, but he's not letting his ghosts drive him, I think. His anxiety's under control finally."

"That's good," Bruce said, then handed me the papers he'd been reviewing. "Take this to him tomorrow, would you? The Watchtower has picked up some signals that indicate that we might be getting interstellar company again."

I sat upright, dislodging Grayson from my lap. "What's the timeline?"

"Too early to tell," Bruce said, frustrated. "If it is even Skrull and/or Kree signals. But forewarned is forearmed."

"Indeed," I said. Tomorrow I'd talk to Uncle Bucky, see what Kree and Skrull weakness were and how we could best train the Avengers to defeat them. I didn't bother to look at the papers; I didn't have the background to interpret intercepted signals. Then I asked Bruce for his opinions on the Kree and Skrulls; all knowledge is useful and he might have different ideas than the Avengers. We talked until we were closing in on midnight; Bruce told me about how the superhero community had responded the last time and advancements that had been made in weaponry since then. The Kree were particularly hard to take down. I was just starting to think about bed when the front door opened and there were quick, light footsteps in the hall, turning into the library.

"Dick? Barbara?" Bruce asked tensely, rising as they entered the library. Both were disheveled and reeked of smoke. Somehow I knew what they were going to say.

"Got burned out of our apartment," Dick said grimly, escorting Barbara to a leather-covered chair. I noticed she was cradling her hand and gently took it, scowling as I saw the burns. I hopped up and went for my kit. When I got back, they were telling Bruce that the doors to the stairs had been locked. Residents had been stuck on their floors. "It was ok for us, we have skills," he said angrily, "but the people on the upper floors couldn't get out. And we couldn't help anybody." He flicked on the tv as I treated Barbara's burns, which also went up her arm. Late-night programming was preempted by live footage of the fire-fighters at the high-rise. Alfred came in, stayed long enough to understand the scope of the problem, then melted away to prepare a room for them. I remembered where we were and took Barbara down to the bat cave and the tissue accelerator. But first I had her scanned to make sure nothing was missed; she had some mild symptoms from smoke inhalation, and I started that therapy before tending to her burns. She asked where Damian was, and I explained about his bronchitis and disgrace. We rolled our eyes simultaneously, and I chuckled. After finishing the treatment, we went back upstairs and I slipped into the suite where Damian was sleeping, collecting a few things for Barbara, like a nightgown. Damian coughed in his sleep, but didn't wake so I didn't disturb him.

I didn't sleep very well that night. The news had confirmed that the latest arson was the work of the S'mores killer and that there were fatalities. And I hated being estranged from Damian, missing sleeping with him. Hestia came in to claim the other half of the bed, but it wasn't the same. Plus the bed wasn't as big as mine and Damian's, and Hestia is a large dog. I woke up in the wee hours of the night clinging to the edge. I wished I could tell her to go find Damian and sleep with him instead.


	21. New challenges

I was on my way out to go to work when Alfred hailed me, a slight perturbation on his normally placid face. "I apologize for the interruption as you are leaving for work, Miss Alex, but Master Damian is...fractious this morning. I wondered if you'd try to speak to him?"

I can't turn Alfred down. So I hiked up to the third floor and walked in on Bruce looking like he'd like to nail his son in the head with the bottle of cough syrup. The bed was a wreck, all the sheets pulled loose and crumpled. Damian was swearing at his father, he was clutching the antibiotics bottle like he was going to throw it at his father. The gist was that he didn't like the taste of the medication.

I was tired, and when I'm tired I'm often cranky. "Damian Thomas Wayne, put that thing back where you found it, or so help me..." I said, very firmly. In my mom's Mom Voice. He glared at me but his hand inched toward the night stand. "Don't you be saying things like that to your father, who is trying to help you, idiot," I directed. Ok, it might have been more like 'bellowed.' Bruce also shut his mouth, which he'd opened to yell. I took the little cup of the medication from him, pinched Damian's nose shut, and poured the medicine in his mouth when he opened it to breathe. He choked it down and started swearing again.

"You're not my mother," he said bitterly.

"No, I am your beloved, and by God you'd better start acting like it. Your mother has a lot to answer for." I pointed at the bathroom. "Get up and go clean up," I directed forcefully. There were splashes of cough syrup on his chest. "Put on a tshirt so that you don't get a chill. Now!" Sulkily, he got up and trudged toward the bathroom. I smacked the little cup down on the nightstand and tossed the covers off the bed. There were no fitted sheets in the manor; Alfred made the beds the old-fashioned (and military way) with flat sheets. I'd learned how to do that as well from Uncle Bucky because I liked the look of the pleats on the corners of the mattress. When Damian shuffled back out, looking slightly wary, I was just finishing the bottom sheet. Bruce looked between us speculatively and Alfred stood in the doorway, watching the situation unfold. I fluffed and arranged the pillows so that he'd be slightly inclined for help with breathing, then waited until Damian stopped coughing to point to the bed. With ill grace, he pulled on an old t shirt and stretched out. I flicked the top sheet over him and tucked the sheets in, using all of Uncle Bucky's tricks to keep the sheet firm and tight. Then I shook the blanket out and spread that across the bed, then had Bruce help me shake out the comforter, fold it in half, and place it across the lower half of the bed. I inspected my work; Damian was neatly mummified under the sheet and for once he wasn't saying anything.

"Now, you listen to me, young man," I said, channeling my mom and stringing together her oldies but goodies. I'd have to tell her about this, she'd get a kick out of it. God help me, I actually shook my finger at him. "Today you will rest. You will take your medication when it is given to you without profanity of any kind, in any language, and you will be grateful that there are people who care enough to want to see to your comfort. If you cannot say something nice, you will not speak. Believe it or not, you aren't that ill or you would be in the hospital. You will survive this unless you provoke somebody to beat your head in. If you want to be treated like a grown up, you will act like one. You may not be aware, but there are people who have real troubles today, like Dick and Barbara, who were victims of the S'mores killer last night. They made it out with minor injuries, but others were not as lucky. There are 27 confirmed dead, almost 20 still in the hospital this morning, and many more were treated and released." He looked shocked. "If you can manage to behave with a semblance of manners, this afternoon you may have your phone or your tablet." I saw Alfred nod out of the corner of my eye. "Do I make myself clear? You will adjust your attitude, or I'll do it for you." Damian, looking a little cowed, managed to free one arm from the sheet and grip the top of it, nodded. I had no idea how to adjust his attitude; Mom's threats had always been sufficient to inspire the necessary degree of change in J and me. I grasped Bruce by the arm and steered him out, sweeping up Alfred in the process and closing the door behind me. 

We started down the stairs. "Thank you, Miss Alex," Alfred said approvingly.

"I have turned into my mother," I sighed. Bruce laughed.

"You mother is a fine woman," he said, and I smiled.

"There are worse people to turn into," I agreed, and at the door, Alfred handed me my briefcase.

"I bought some Otter Pops on my way home yesterday," I told him thoughtfully. "Damian said once that he'd had the flu as a kid and he'd liked them then. I thought they might help soothe his throat from the irritation caused by the coughing. I'm sorry, I forgot to put them in the freezer, they're still in the bag in my room. If he's good, this afternoon maybe he can have a treat." Alfred smiled.

"I remember that," Bruce sighed. "Fortunately, he wasn't a sickly kid. This is actually not as bad in comparison."

"I get that he had a crappy childhood and he was borderline psychotic," I shook my head. "But he is no longer that little boy and this type of behavior is unacceptable."

"I believe that he is learning that lesson," Alfred murmured, holding the door for me. "We shall follow your lead, Miss Alex." I said goodbye and trotted down to my car. I was going to be a little late.

Today I had the younger Avengers as well as Quicksilver, Sif, and Hogun. Little Magni sat in on his mother's lessons and I always made a little time to speak to the boy. Asgardians developed slower than human kids, so while he was in his teens, he was developmentally and physically about five years old. A very large five, but still very young. I knew better than to teach a kid to punch, but I'd taught him a couple of blocks. He was happy to be included, and Thor had said that a warrior's training should start early.

"I have no idea how warrior's training proceeds on Asgard," I said to Sif, "but perhaps you could start him on that path yourself. He's Thor's heir, he'll be getting into his share of fights."

"Boys do begin training about Magni's age," she said thoughtfully. "We spend so much time here on Midgard that I believe it has slipped Thor's mind. I do not know if I am the best teacher for him, however. Women are traditionally not weaponsmasters."

"As you pointed out, you're on Midgard," I said briskly. "And Lady Sif is a noted warrior. If you want to do it, there shouldn't be any problems. Although I'd start him on wooden practice weapons, liability and all. You train him in traditional Asgardian methods, since he'll be commanding Asgardian troops in the future, and as he grows, we'll teach him Midgardian hand-to-hand methods." I smiled and looked at her. "Mothers have much to teach their kids. As Magni learns from his, he will also learn not to underestimate women and to value their contributions. Your impact on the future of Asgard can also be subtle and wide ranging." She smiled.

After training, I gave Bruce's paperwork to Tony and Bucky at the beginning of my time in the simulator and let them review it while I tackled a fiendishly difficult test. I ended up having to ditch my car in the river. Shit. It was actually the best outcome, but it didn't mean I liked having to trash my car, even in a simulator. Bucky just nodded and brought up a different challenge. After practice was over, they'd decided to behave as if this was in fact the first indication of an impending incursion and to start preparing the Avengers. Bucky was going to review what was known about the Kree and Skrulls and we'd develop a training program to attack their vulnerabilities.

"The Skrulls are pretty much as easy to fight as another human," Bucky said. "The trick is to identify them when they're all dressed up as humans. The Kree are a different matter. They're very tough, and difficult to bring down."

"I could take a look if you have reports on their physiology," I volunteered. "I can probably provide a different perspective." Bucky smiled and said he'd dig up the work done on them after the first and second invasion attempts.

"I'll reach out to the Justice League, other groups of heroes, the street heroes, our government contacts," Tony said on a sigh. "With more warning we can plan more effectively. Evacuation, deployment of the National Guard, revise our tactics and strategy. Ugh. Groups. I prefer to set things up myself." Bucky and I smiled.

"No reason you can't make the first proposals, send them out prior to your meetings, let everybody think it over and come up with their own ideas," Bucky said practically. "Cut down the time that's needed for meetings." 

"There might be a few refinements they can come up with," Tony agreed, and we went upstairs. Bucky went to talk to Emma about the problem and Tony and I went on to the lab. We were ready to test Emma's new gold electrodes, and since data would take awhile to collect, we wanted to get to it. We spent the afternoon fussing and tweaking here and there, then were ready to let the experiment run overnight.

"Fingers crossed," I said as we finished. He grinned at me.

"Science before superstition," he said mockingly. I leaned over and tapped his head with my knuckles.

"Knock wood," I said lightly, and he rolled his eyes.

As I pulled up to the mansion, I wondered how Damian was doing. I hadn't gotten any texts, emails, or phone calls, so maybe, just maybe he'd stopped swearing. Alfred met me at the door and took my briefcase. "Master Damian has spent a fairly silent day," he told me. "Almost meek, one might say. As a consequence, he was allowed his tablet this afternoon and rewarded with two Otter Pops." I smiled. "Master Bruce will be delayed at work and will not be here for supper. Master Dick and Miss Barbara have indicated an interest in an earlier supper so they can take a nap before going out to investigate this evening. If that's not convenient for you--"

"Oh no, Alfred, that'll be fine. I just want to go up and check on Damian first."

He nodded. "Dinner will be served in forty minutes, Miss Alex." 

I stopped off in my temporary quarters, changing quickly, then ghosting up to the third floor. I slipped through the slightly opened door to behold Damian asleep, looking surprisingly angelic. I smiled, a little unwillingly. What a brat he could be. Winston was curled around his head benignly; it was difficult to tell in this light where his fur ended and Damian's hair began. It was an odd look, what with Winston's bright copper eyes gleaming at me. Damian's tablet was resting against his chest, as if he'd fallen asleep while reading it, and an empty Otter Pop plastic sleeve was clutched in his other hand. I smiled slightly and delicately removed it from his grip. Winston meeped serenely at me and I took a moment to pet. His rumbling purr woke Damian, who looked around groggily and lifted his hand to explore what was going on on top of his head. He smiled slightly when he touched Winston, then his face turned anxious when he saw me. He inhaled deeper than he wanted, which set off a coughing fit. Winston sat up and withdrew a little to my side of the bed.

After he got his breath back, he issued a very contrite apology for his bratty behavior. I smiled and sat down next to him, taking his (slightly sticky from the Otter Pop) hand. "Did you apologize to Alfred too?" He nodded.

"I'll get Dad the next time that I see him." We talked for a bit until it was time for me to go down for dinner and his eyes started to close again. Winston curled up by his side as I left. Down at dinner, Dick congratulated me for forcing humanity on his brother.

"You didn't know him then, Alex," Barbara said, shuddering as she tucked into shepherd's pie. "So arrogant, acting so superior. Not a shred of humility, the demon spawn. It's a miracle none of us killed him. It was only Bruce's insistence and the fact that he really was pretty good at a lot of things that saved him."

"What was he good at?" I asked, spooning my share onto my plate. Yum. And Alfred didn't skimp on the fluffy mashed potato topping, I was glad to see.

"He's a legitimate business genius," Dick said between mouthfuls. "He got full training from the League of Assassins so he could take over Wayne Enterprises, one way or another. He could actually run Wayne Enterprises better than Bruce does, if he wanted. I don't think he actually needed to get his MBA because it doesn't seem like he learned much new stuff, but credentials and honors are reassuring. He has the board of directors wrapped around his little finger, has since before he was a teenager." He shook his head. "And he was a really good Robin, when I was acting as Batman. Knew a lot about criminology and criminalistics, other topics, a highly skilled fighter. And of course, he's never lacked for self-confidence." He sighed.

"He used to be able to mimic voices perfectly," Barbara added. "Fooled even the bat cave computer. Not as well since he hit puberty, though. But his grandfather wanted a worth heir to his criminal empire, and Talia was responsible for that. Ra's accepted her as his second in business, both legal and illegal, but he's always thought that her sex was a defect, so Talia needed a son. Bruce was thought to be the one man worthy of the 'honor' of a dynastic alliance with the house of al Ghul. Well, we all know how THAT turned out. He had a very hard life under the League of Assassins, nature took a hell of a beating by nurture. And later, she tried to use Damian against Bruce, get him on her side, help her win Ra's's good graces, and then put a bounty on Damian when he didn't comply." She scowled.

"How much?" I asked, taking another bite.

"Half a billion dollars," she said factually, and I accidentally inhaled a pea. "It was a bid to get Damian back, but it just pissed him off and he repudiated her. But she's never given up on the thought of regaining his cooperation, and if you guys have kids, that'll be another handle for her to try to grasp," she warned me.

"Something to think about," I mumbled around my mouthful. And it was. I'd never considered the ramifications of kids vis a vis the entirety of Damian's family.

"Although on that note, have you guys thought about kids yet? Barb and I will babysit," Dick assured me.

"We've only been together a few months," I said, swatting at him. "Geeze. If you want kids, why don't you guys look into that?" I asked, as we batted at each other like Winston and Grayson did.

"Yeah, but you've been friends for a long time and you tolerated him in high school, so seriously, little kids cannot possibly be worse," he said, and Barbara laughed, but it sounded a little forced. "It's obvious that you're a team and that you're around for the long haul."

I gave him a special look. "Dick, you have also described you and Barbara. Perfectly." He flushed red.

"And how was work today, Miss Alex?" Alfred inquired blandly, and I told them more than they could possibly want to know about algae. God. I can't help myself sometimes. Somebody shows an interest in my work and I make them regret it. Sorry. So sorry.

"So you could use algae to power electrical equipment?" Dick asked, his flush fading.

"Small things, small lights, maybe some sensors, the more energy efficient the better," I agreed. "But it would take a really big box of algae right now, and it's not even to the demonstration phase yet. And there's a power storage problem; the activity that we use is photosynthesis, which takes place during the day. Can't generate it at night." I pondered that a moment. "I wonder if you could use bioluminescent plants or jellyfish?" I fell silent and contemplated that. I wished for once that Alfred didn't have a "no cell phones" policy at the table. I wanted to text Tony about that. "Vibrio fischeri? Photobacterium leiognathi? What has luciferase?"

"What's that?" Barbara asked.

"An enzyme that catalyzes light emitting reactions. Can we use that artificially? But the point is to use the whole organism, make a self-replicating system..." I ate mechanically. I couldn't wrap my head around it all. I needed to toss it to Tony, get him thinking about it, then we'd brainstorm after I had enough time to mash ideas around in my head. I managed to put it aside long enough to enjoy the cookies for dessert and pay attention to my tablemates, hearing about their day, having some advice about being burned out for Barbara and Dick. Alfred was contemplating a kitchen garden, but the one he'd planted before had been overrun by bugs and he hadn't wanted to use chemical pest control.

As I trudged up the stairs, I phoned Tony and left a message about my new enthusiasm. By the time I got to our suite, I'd moved on. I drew Damian a nice hot bath with lots of steam to help the congestion in his chest and put some eucalyptus and menthol bath salts in too. I teased him about the posters in his old room and he blushed. I was glad that he'd shed his brat and was back to the Damian I knew and loved. He snorted when I told him that we had babysitters already for our nonexistent kids.

"They were engaged once, but they called it off when he helped Bruce get his memories back after being killed. Don't know why they haven't gotten engaged again. He's never loved anybody they way he loves her, and both of them have been engaged to other people."

"Oh, really?" I asked, interested.

"Yeah, he was actually at the altar with Kory, you might know her as the alien hero Starfire, but that was ruined and Dick realized that he didn't love her enough. He does love his redheads," Damian said, diverted, and smiled at me. "Good thing you're a brunette, I'd hate to have to kill him. Barbara was engaged to a detective, but they broke it off, never knew why." He coughed. "But if they want kids, they'd better get started. Dick's in his 30's and Barbara is a little older. And before I forget, not to change the subject, Dad told me that your brother's going to be in the city between semesters. Is he going to stay in the tower? Because I thought it would be a good chance to spend some time with him, get to know him a little better if he stayed here." He smiled at me. "Plus you're still upset with him and it might be good to have some time with him to work it out." We talked about that as he got out of the tub and I went to get him some fresh jammies. He was weaker than usual, so I let him lean on me as we walked back to the bed. This time I just covered him with the sheet rather than aggressively tucking him in.

"Whew. I thought I'd never get out this morning," he joked. "You're very creative with your punishments for bad behavior, Sweet Pea."

"You might want to remember that," I said, fluffing his pillows some more. We held hands as we talked, but I could see he was fading again, and he coughed dispiritedly. I gave him his last dose of medication for the night and took his temperature. It was still up, but not as much as before. Coming back from the bathroom where I'd refilled his water pitcher, the door opened and Bruce and Alfred entered. Alfred spied me and took the pitcher, setting it down on the nightstand and fussing over things a bit. Bruce was looking at his son askance, but it soon melted as Damian apologized for his conduct. I smiled. Bruce smiled. Alfred looked around benevolently. Damian coughed and told his dad that J ought to stay here during his visit. Bruce turned to me immediately.

"Of course he's welcome here, Alex. This is your home now and your family is always welcome." Alfred concurred, adding that he was curious to meet my brother, although this being Alfred, he was more circumspect about admitting that. So I texted J right there and got an enthusiastic text back accepting the offer. All three men looked pleased, then I gently urged Bruce and Alfred out the door so Damian could rest. I left the door open a crack so that the pets could go in and out. Maybe his dog would hog the bigger bed. As we went down the stairs, Hestia and Grayson were headed up. Hestia seemed to have adopted the smaller cat.

In the library, Alfred served nightcaps as Bruce urged his adopted son and Barbara to stay as long as they wanted. It struck me that just like Damian wanted to hoard animals, Bruce wanted family close. I half-listened to them talk; both Barbara and Dick were shaken by the experience, understandably. I got an email back from Tony that made me smile. He said it sounded interesting and that I should get to work on it. So much for collaboration, I thought, appreciating his confidence in me. At first I thought it was going to be a huge big problem, but I was going to approach it similarly to the way we'd approached the algae and take it from there. I'd need to start the research tomorrow. After some additional socialization, I went to bed a little early.

The next afternoon, I was staring at the ceiling as I worked through part of my problem, but put my feet down and sat up as Tony came in. "I've got a kid for you," he said impatiently when I looked at him, and hovering by the door was indeed a teenager. "We need somebody down here to maintain the tanks, do the cleaning, make the solutions, feed the things. So we have a lab assistant. She's from your old high school and is going to work around eight-ten hours a week. Have you seen the data from last night?" I had, and I'd set up another test quickly so we could compare the results from artificial versus natural light. He beelined out, and I introduced myself to the girl, who informed me that her name was Madison. She seemed quiet and reserved, which would make her a good fit in my estimation, and I showed her around the lab. I'd have to get her a little desk or something. We didn't have a break room up her for her to store her stuff. I got her started washing some glassware that we'd let pile a bit and fired off a request for the desk, a computer, and a nice desk chair to the appropriate departments before returning to work. Madison left a little before I did, and I stopped by the library on the way home and picked up a few holds I'd placed. I thought that Damian and I could discuss our first project in the conservatory, an herb garden for Alfred.


	22. Domesticity rules

Work went better the next day since I wasn't operating a fog of tiredness. Hestia had indeed slept on Damian's bed. I smirked when I went up before going to work. Poor boy was tired, but he could rest. A small desk, computer, and desk chair had been delivered to the lab, and I moved it into a corner, the only clear space for it. But not to fear for Madison; one of the walls was the expansive windows that overlooked the city, so she shouldn't feel banished. When she showed up, we had a chat about her work days--Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school, so she'd be leaving at the same time I did. HR had checked her references and she seemed like a good kid, but Tony was a little concerned about industrial espionage in all of his labs and a new camera was installed that specifically focused on her desk. Her computer access was restricted to what she needed to do her job, naturally, and like every computer except for maybe Tony's had tracking software installed. This provided protection for both the employee and the company.

Tony came down to discuss the preliminary data we had from our first tests using natural versus artificial light, then asked about my new idea. He nodded and told me to continue the research. "It's a real opportunity for you to put your stamp on the work," he said. "Besides, if I take charge you'll get dependent on me. I won't be around forever, you know."

"Did you get bad news at your physical?" I asked, worried. He'd bitched about his annual exam so much you'd thought they were actually going to take him apart and examine him inch by inch.

"No, I'm healthy as can be--for my age." He sighed, and with shock I noted that he was starting to look old. He usually hid it with his vitality and forceful personality. "But it's come to my attention that I'm going to have to cut back on Iron Man. I can't take as much G force as I used to, and there's only so much the suits can do." I nodded, remembering trying to compensate for Colonel Rhodes' injuries. "Pisses me off," he muttered, kicking the partners' desk.

"Cutting back on Iron Man doesn't mean that you have to stop leading the Avengers," I said.

"Couldn't if I wanted to, there's nobody who can take my place. Pete's learning how to run the business, he hasn't got time to learn how to run the Avengers too. Barnes is out of fieldwork anyway, and he's older than dirt, we need somebody younger. He still can't get over the Dodgers moving from Brooklyn." He snorted. "We need strong leadership now more than ever, with interstellar threats as well as the human idiots. It's just that I don't like this long slide into decrepitude."

I laughed, irritating him. "Bucky understands why the team was relocated," I said with affection. "He just doesn't like it. It's a sentimental thing for him. You're hardly decrepit," I told him with a measure of fond exasperation. Somehow Tony had achieved a measure of friendly affection. "You're just going to have to work smarter, not physically."

"I hate it when you're right," he said moodily. We sat across from each other at the enormous desk and chatted awhile. He wasn't unguarded, he never let down his guard completely as far as I knew, but he did relax more than I'd ever seen him. We talked science for awhile, both our projects as well as other stuff, and some slightly more personal things as well. When he left for a meeting, he'd recovered his usual rocket-like momentum and I wondered if he had anybody just to talk to. Scuttlebutt said that he used to be attracted to Emma, but since she'd married my uncle, his interest had faded. Not in her cooking, though; he'd talked her into stocking his very own cookie jar, which he kept in his private office rather than the lab. And the three of them worked closely together in the business as well as the Avengers, but somehow I couldn't see him and Bucky just sitting down over beers, just shooting the shit. Or Emma, for that matter. She didn't just hang out much either. She almost always had a purpose. I shook my head and pulled out my knitting. I was making a light sweater, nothing really complicated, but I found it helped to keep my hands busy while my mind thought about other plans. 

I took a break to order some bioluminescent bacteria and the components to start experimenting and sketched out a preliminary design for the testing environment. I let my mind wander around work stuff, and I wondered why I didn't have a cookie jar. I'd stack Alfred's cookies against Emma's any day. Maybe I'd ask him this evening if I could bring some to work, but I didn't want to make more work for him. How he got everything done each day I had no idea. Or, alternatively, I could make my own cookies. I was getting lazy and entitled, living in the mansion.

Still, I cut out a little early, anxious to go home and see Damian. He hadn't been much better this morning and I was getting worried and ready to take him back to the doctor. But when I got home, he was feeling some better, enough to have taken a picture of a little planting area in the center of the conservatory and email it to a local nursery.

"They said that the little palm that's in that area isn't in very good shape and we could take it out," he said, then coughed, but it didn't sound as bad to my anxious ears. "I got to thinking about a garden, though...." and he showed me a sketch he'd made.

"Wow," I said appreciatively. "I had no idea you were so skilled with a pencil, honey." He'd done a lovely little drawing with rosemary and lavender bushes in the center, sage, varieties of thyme and basil, parsley, lemongrass, dill, cilantro, fennel, tarragon, chamomile, chervil, winter savory, oregano, bergamot, chives, and a couple of pots of mint and catnip, he said, because they were invasive and he didn't want them to take over the whole conservatory. Aloe vera. "Maybe some other things if Alfred wants them," he said, pleased at my praise. "I thought that if I felt better, this weekend we could got to a nursery and pick out some plants." He snuggled into me.

We talked about that; I liked the idea. I got a surprise; we took the elevator and he came down to dinner with me. I tried not to fuss too much but made him wear his warmest robe. It could be drafty sometimes. Dick was glad to see him up and around and gave him an unselfconscious hug. Barbara ruffled his hair, and Bruce was pleased to see so many around the table. Alfred had made a delicious dinner of easily-digested foods centered around chicken and rice with a nice sauce, not too rich. I sighed with contentment when Alfred served the coffee in the library. Damian smiled at his cup of chamomile.

"Coffee is for the weak," he jabbed at me. His father rolled his eyes.

"I'm not the one drinking hot flower water, pal," I said, and enjoyed the rich taste of the coffee. Damian shook his head with pity, then squeezed my hand. Dick made a gagging noise.

"It's like he never grew up," Barbara said, looking heavenward. "Oh, Alex, you had a couple of holds come in at the library, so I just brought them home for you."

"Oh, thank you," I said. "I don't want to add to your work, though."

"No problem," she assured me easily. "It's not a bit out of my way. So, gardening?" We told her about the conservatory, and Damian had the specifics about the kitchen garden. Alfred was really pleased at the thought, and had suggestions of his own. Dick offered to help me take out the sickly palm, and Bruce jumped in on that too. They seemed to think it was going to be easy to remove it, but I wasn't so sure; it had had decades to get settled in. Mom liked gardens at our house in Pennsylvania before the water quality got so bad, and I knew that it was hard work to prepare the site and get things established. It was a lot easier to keep a garden up. Everybody was interested in the revivification of the conservatory and had ideas of varying complexity. Then Dick got really ambitious and said that we should plant gardens outside, too. I put my foot down and told him how much work it was to get the grass up and create the beds before the fun could begin, and he wilted a bit.

"We could always have some landscapers come in and prepare the flowerbeds," Bruce said thoughtfully. "Then the artistic ones among us could put the plants in position and we could all plant them." Everybody seemed interested in that, and I thought it sounded like fun too, but we were all busy people, and I didn't know how much time we could all spend on the projects. Plus, the idea of the Batfamily. those prowlers of the night and smiters of evil, doing something so mundane as gardening together, in the broad sunlight, was somehow mindboggling. I kept my mouth shut, though. If nothing else, it captured everybody's imagination and it was fun to talk about.

After we'd enjoyed our after-dinner drinks and the party began to break up, I asked Alfred whether he'd mind if I invaded the kitchen some time. "Of course not, Miss Alex. May I ask why?"

"Everybody has their own stash of homemade cookies at work," I said. "And nobody shares with me. They're very selfish," I said bitterly. "So I thought I'd bring my own cookie jar. They'll be sorry." Damian started laughing, then sputtered to a cough.

"I can keep you supplied," Alfred said conspiratorially.

"I don't want to add another task," I said promptly. "As it is, I don't know how you get everything done. You're the Superman of butlers, superlative."

"I enjoy baking," he said serenely, although he looked pleased at the complement. "But perhaps you do as well. We could alternate, if you'd like." I liked that idea, and Alfred insisted on making the first batch for me. Bruce, who was looking on benevolently, started.

"I forgot," he said. "We're going to have some more visitors for a few days. Some of the Justice League will be convening here to discuss that data on the possible approach of the Kree and Skrulls. I've been in touch with Stark," he said to me. "We decided that each of our groups would form a preliminary plan, then we'd meet, hash out a unified preliminary plan, then alert the other heroes for the larger group discussion. The government will be making its own plans, assessing its own needs, then we'll meet to mesh our plans. Cut out some meetings that way, streamline the process."

"I'm glad I'm not a hero," I said, shuddering. "That is way too many meetings."

"You're not wrong," he agreed, then we saw Damian shiver and I hustled him upstairs, not wanting him to overexert himself; I thought he'd spent too much time up but I didn't nag him, though. He was really bright, he'd figure it out. I got him tucked into bed nonpunitively, gave him his medication, and sat with him until he dozed off, Grayson by his side. He really enjoyed having the pets; he seemed soothed by them. I'd bring home more, but I didn't want to clean up after a herd of cats and dogs. I eased out of my chair, turned off the lights, and left the door open a bit so the pets could come and go. 

After that, Damian started to make a rapid recovery, to the relief of all, especially Damian himself. A couple days later, as I was going out the door for work, Alfred handed me a big heavy bag, smiled serenely, and wished me a productive day. At my side of the desk, I unwrapped the tissue to find a very generously-sized ceramic novelty cookie jar in the image of the Death Star that was filled with sugar cookies and peanut butter cookies that had Hershey's kisses stuck in the center. "Wow," I muttered through a mouthful. Psychically alerted to the presence of baked goods in the tower, Tony materialized at the desk and grabbed a handful of cookies.

"I need a butler/baker," he said after inhaling a couple.

"It's handy," I said, letting him replenish his supply before putting the lid on the jar. Where was I going to be able to hide it? "It's hard for an AI to bake." He nodded and took off again. Hiding it wasn't going to be easy, what with the camera footage that Tony could review. The big drawer in my desk would do for now, but the lock wasn't even a lighthearted challenge for the lockpicking skills of people throughout the tower. Every time I went past the cabinets closest to the door, I nudged the camera just slightly, and by the end of the day I felt that I'd shifted it enough for it not to be clear that I had put the Death Star in the lower cabinet behind jars of nutrients for the hydroponics system. There had been three shelves there, but the jars were so big I'd taken one out and left it on top of the bottom shelf. I used this to create a false back and hid the cookie jar. Not easily accessible, and this was both good and bad. I'd left a small pile of cookies to snack on; it wouldn't do to go to the well too often. 

To my surprise and pleasure, Aslyn showed up that afternoon with an important analysis of attempted hacks on the tower system for Tony, and she saw the cookies with equal pleasure. "I might have to come up here more often," she said around a bite. "Not that I'm not glad to see you too," she added generously, and I laughed. We talked for a bit; this was her biggest analysis to date and she hoped it would help her chance of promotion. "My boss is retiring soon," she said. "I want his job."

"Good luck," I said. "You'll be awesome." And we tapped our cookies together.

Tony bustled in. "Where's the cookie jar?" he asked, looking around.

"Hidden. Otherwise they'll be eaten too fast." Tony protested, and we had to negotiate a daily appearance for the Cookie Star. I motioned for Aslyn to put the report on the desk; Tony hates being handed things.

"Why the hard copy?" he asked, frowning, and Aslyn said something in computer speak that went over my head. Tony leafed through the report, pausing on key pages, then towed her out the door to discuss the report with the higher ups as as well as to determine what was going on with the computer system. Madison came in as they were leaving, and I gave her a list of tasks for after she checked email and all.

My last deviation from routine that day was an email from Dr Reynaud, who'd heard about my new work from Bruce. He congratulated me on the topic of my research and had the email addresses for a couple of international groups who were pursuing similar research. Maybe there'd be some opportunities for collaboration later. And attached was an invitation to his retirement party. I RSVP'ed immediately.

I was on the road home when Detective McIver called. "We've had some news," he said after the briefest of greetings. "I believe that there is enough credible evidence to suggest that the Joker is back in the city or that his return is imminent. I'm not at liberty to discuss my sources or the details of the information, but there's enough of it to tell me that the threat is real. You need to be careful."


	23. House party

Surprisingly, I wasn't upset by McIver's call. I'd known that the Joker was out and probably seeking revenge; this was simply a start of the... I decided to call it the game. When I play games, I play to win. And If the Joker was out to get me, I was totally going to pwn him.

The first secret to a successful strategy is not to get cocky or overconfident. Or to panic. I knew that I was physically prepared; my fighting skills were a lot better than they were the last time I met the Joker, I'd improved in armed combat too, I still wore my pendant and nobody but a select, trusted few knew that it was anything more than a pretty piece of jewelry, I had new, awesome driving abilities and a tricked-out car to help me escape. I had a ring with a hidden sting, a tracker watch that was beyond state of the art, and I had backup--the Joker's worst enemy, my boyfriend, his brother, as well as my uncle and assorted superheroes. The negative was that if I was serious about Damian (I was) and was looking at marrying the man (I was) then I also had to buy into my prospective father-in-law's worldview, which meant that I couldn't kill the Joker. Bucky would be... not disappointed in me, but... something. He was from a harder school of life than Bruce was, in many ways. He'd think I was foolish, and maybe I was, because everybody knew that Arkham was just a temporary holding stage for the city's supervillains. They seemed to use it as a place to rest up, get medical care and room and board before strolling out and wreaking havoc again. But I really didn't want to kill anybody. If you can't bring yourself to kill in self-defense, I don't think you'll ever be able to do it. But thanks to my instructors, I knew a lot of ways to hurt somebody so badly that they might wish I had killed them. Was that more cruel or less?

I knew Bruce would put the Joker on his priority list, if only to keep his son reined in. The one I was worried about was Damian. He hated the Joker long before me, but what the Joker had done to me had just increased his hate. My plan was to be ready to confront the Joker on my terms. Not his, this time. For that I needed intelligence. I needed to know where he was and information about the number of his minions and how they were likely to fit into the Joker's own strategy. The second step in my overall plan was to confront the Joker, beat him to within an inch of his life, then call the ambulances. I needed to make very clear that he needed to look elsewhere for his target in the future. I also needed to impress his minion scum with the futility of coming after me themselves. To do that, I had to make the cost of such an attempt high. Epic, if possible.

I also needed to understand the Joker better, I realized. Guy was nutty as an almond farm, but I didn't know what was going on in his head. During a traffic jam, I did some quick research on my phone and found that Harley Quinn was still in Arkham. I looked up the visiting hours. Through all of this, I kept alert and continually checked the area around my car. I touched the buttons to Alfred's Bond devices, the bag with the water rescue equipment, the place on my messenger bag where I'd clipped the special pepper spray. I brought a couple of shuriken out of the center console and placed them where I could reach them immediately if there was trouble. I kept my hands relaxed and ready for self-defense.

As it happened, I made it home without any grinning nightmares accosting me. When I got to the door, Alfred wasn't there, which was a surprise. I tucked my bag away myself, and encountered him in the library. I was surprised to see a crowd of superheroes. Right, Bruce had explained that we were having guests. I'd forgotten. The Wayne contingent was the only one not in costume. But it was to be expected; the guests must know the bat family's alter egos. Even Damian was up and dressed and not too pale. He'd shaved off his beard scruff (good because it was prickly, bad because he looked dead sexy with it) and was dressed in the trousers from a suit and a dress shirt but no tie or suitcoat. Bruce had on a suit from work as did Barbara. Dick was more casual, like Damian.

"Oh, Miss Alex," Alfred said, and he seemed a little fussed. "I regret that you did not receive a proper greeting at the door this evening."

"It's not the end of the world," I said, and accepted a pre-dinner cocktail from him, welcoming the first cool sip, the bite of lime and ginger over the vodka of a Moscow Mule. It was a warm day and I'd been tense. I sighed in pleasure and looked up at the tall butler, winking. "Or is it that you still think I'm a guest?"

"I should say not--" he retorted, but Damian came up just then for a welcoming cuddle and kiss. Alfred smiled slightly and glided away.

"It's a bigger crowd than expected," he told me quietly. He took a sip of my drink, sighed, then kept his arm around me as he steered me to the first group. I recognized all of them, of course. "This is Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, and Flash," he told me. "Wonder Woman, gentlemen, this is my significant other, Alex Barnes."

"Pleased to meet you," Green Lantern rumbled in a rich bass.

"We haven't met, but you look familiar, somehow," Wonder Woman said, extending her hand, studying me keenly. Firm grip, but not one of those hand squisher ones.

"I believe you know my uncle," I said, recalling Bucky's story of the first alien invasion attempt. "Bucky Barnes."

Her eyes lit. "Ah, yes. The resemblance is around the eyes, mostly. And the hair color. A pleasure, Ms Barnes. I was unaware he had any family left."

"He didn't know at the time," I said. "I introduced myself later."

"That's nice," Flash said approvingly. "Do you see him much?"

"Most days. He's training me to take over his work as hand-to-hand instructor for the Avengers." The group inched in. Damian was trying not to laugh.

"Oh, the Avengers," Green Arrow said dismissively, like they were the waterboys to the Justice League's first string, varsity.

"They're a good bunch," I said lightly. "I work with Bucky in the morning and with Tony in the afternoons."

"Dilettante rich boy," Arrow grunted.

"I thought that was your job," Flash said, digging at him. Arrow's eyes narrowed. Our group was abruptly enlarged.

"Alex, I'd like to introduce Superman and Aquaman. This is my d-- uh, Alex is Damian's girlfriend." We shook hands. Superman was huge and solemn but not without humor, and Aquaman was elemental and gorgeous. If not for Damian, I'd be drooling. He must get that a lot.

"Hand to hand?" Green Arrow said, looking at me as if he found me wanting. I smiled cheerfully.

"I've still got a lot to learn, but Bucky's not retiring any time soon," I told him. DIck and Barbara joined the group with Black Canary and Zatanna.

"Well, you'd better be working hard," Arrow said dismissively. "Trouble's coming. Even an apprentice will be worth something."

"Bucky's been training me for about ten years," I said. "Off and on. I didn't get much training in grad school. You shouldn't mistake what I look like with what I can do." Flash looked calculating and rocketed into action. I tripped him, and shook my head at him from where he lay on the floor, rucking up one of the antique Persian carpets. "I train Quicksilver," I told him. "I can't say I know all the tricks of dealing with speedsters, but I know a few." I leaned over to give him a hand up.

"You must know Hawkeye," Green Arrow said in a superior manner.

"Love him and his dog. Both Hawkeyes taught me how to shoot when I was in high school," I said fondly. "It was for a gym class. I'm nowhere as good as they are, though. The senior Hawkeye is a pretty good brawler, but I'm also training the junior Hawkeye. It's always good to know how to defend yourself if your primary weapon is taken away or damaged."

"Dinner is served," Alfred chose to announce, and Damian and I brought up the rear of the stampede to the dining room. Apparently everybody was looking forward to Alfred's delicacies. Damian said he was feeling much better and optimistically said that he might go into work tomorrow. Well, we'd see how tonight went first. They were having their meeting after dinner, but that was fine because I had work of my own to do and I didn't mind doing it elsewhere. And now that Damian was no longer considered contagious, I'd vacated his old room and was going to sleep in our bed tonight.

Dinner was delicious, and I faded away after the coffee, taking a large mug upstairs after retrieving my bag. I wanted to get some studying done before I went to talk to Harley--that is, if she'd agree to talk to me. The great thing about digital publishing is that now kids can get their ruinously expensive college texts as ebooks. I found a basic psychology text and one on criminal psychology and started speed reading. The books were a big help. Based on what I'd seen of the Joker, I wouldn't classify him as psychotic because he didn't seem to hear voices or have visual hallucinations, didn't seem delusional. I was leaning toward a psychopath because of the lack of empathy or remorse, his antisocial behavior, and his bold egotism. Definitely antisocial disorder, I thought, flicking through the pages. A pervasive pattern of disregarding and violating the rights of others. An impoverished conscience and a history of crime, legal problems, and impulsive and aggressive behavior. Yep, totally the Joker. There was something called intermittent explosive disorder, characterized by explosive outbursts of anger and violence that are disproportionate to the situation at hand. That fit too. I shuddered and looked out the window. I was sitting in the turret, but all that glass made me feel too exposed all of a sudden, even though I was certain there was no one out there. I flicked the cover of the Kindle closed and picked up the throw that Bucky had knitted for me years ago and my empty mug. In the hall, I could hear faint voices from downstairs, so I took the back stairs, which went directly into the kitchen and had been the servants' stair, back when the owners had a lot of staff. I put the mug in the dishwasher and grabbed some brownies to take back upstairs. I was hungry a lot these days although I needed to work out more; my waistbands were getting tight.

I trotted back upstairs and into our room, closing the draperies and curling up on the couch to read the new Will Thomas. I liked reading the Victorian mysteries in this Victorian house and was several chapters in when I decided to go to bed. No telling how late Damian would be. But when I came out of the bathroom, he was there, undressing. Yum. I helped, just to cast an appreciative look over his body, then got into the bed while he hit the bathroom. "So what was new with you today? We didn't get to talk," he asked, yawning.

"Got a call today. Joker's supposed to be in the city or on his way," I said, curling up.

"WHAT?" Damian said loudly, sitting bolt upright. I sighed to myself.

"It doesn't really change anything," I said practically. "I've been keeping my guard up, especially when I'm not here or in the tower." Damian complained about me not telling him earlier (right. In front of all those other people who were there for the aliens) then tried to restrict me to the property.

I laughed, which wasn't perhaps the best approach as it just riled him up more. I refused, of course, reminded him of all my nifty skills and tricks. It took awhile to talk him down, and, grudgingly, he calmed down. "I'll tell Dad tomorrow," he yawned.


	24. J's visit

The next day when I drove into work, I have to admit that I white-knuckled it and it took conscious effort to release the steering wheel in the tower garage. But no psycho clowns leaped out at me, so I shook it off and was glad to go up to the training room. Bucky was there alone, and I updated him about McIver's call. He scowled.

"You're as safe as it's really possible to be, given that you won't stay in a secured place constantly--and I understand why you won't--but I wish the cops would get off their asses and catch this guy. And what's Wayne waiting for? I thought he was supposed to be a hot-shit detective."

"He is, but you know it's not easy to track somebody down, the Avengers haven't always been able to find their enemies quickly either," I chided gently. "They're having a meeting of the Justice League to determine what to do about the aliens. The possible alien approach. That takes priority because it's hard to coordinate that many schedules, but I'm sure he'll get back to the Joker once that's over." I was pretty sure because not only was the Joker his bete noir but Damian would be pushing him about it. Bucky just grunted and we used the time before Avengers started showing up for their training for practice.

"Sweetie, I know that you have an aversion to killing, but if it comes down to you or somebody else, I expect you to choose yourself and wrestle with your conscience later," he said at the conclusion. "You'd be safer if he was dead." I didn't have the time to reply before the elevator disgorged the first students of the day. He was right, and I know I thought that I could kill him, but down really deep I wondered if I really could. If I could live with blood on my hands.

I finished the morning with Hogun, who had a present for me today, two short, matched swords that were a hallmark of his people. They fought with both of them, one in each hand, and he offered to teach me the method. Never one to pass up an opportunity to learn, I agreed, and we carved out some time later in the week. Then I had time in the driving simulator and lunch with Aslyn. She listened to my news about the Joker and shook her head.

"Kick his ass good this time," she urged me, and I shrugged.

"I did last time, for all the good it did," I said moodily. She didn't really have a response for that, not that I expected one. I didn't have any answers either.

Tony was pissed when I told him. He expressed it differently than anybody else, though. He stuffed a cookie in his mouth and spoke around it. "It's a dick move to divert your attention just when we're getting somewhere with our research," he muttered, then swallowed. "Plan to stay here if you're at all uneasy," he directed me, sticking his hand back into the Cookie Star and feeling around. "You're out of cookies," he barked, then stomped out of the lab. Madison arrived then, accompanied by a strange boy.

"This is Lewis, one of the interns from IT," she introduced me. "He's going to fix a glitch on my computer." I didn't pay much attention as they chatted; it sounded like they were getting to know each other. Tony stomped back in with some coconut cookies from his own cookie jar, courtesy of Emma. He dropped a handful on my side of the desk and kicked back in his chair. This time we talked about the data we were generating with the algae and then he helped me set up for the evening's procedure with both the algae and bacteria.

That night when I got home, I had enough time with Damian to reassure him that everything was fine, then the Justice League went down to the bat cave to continue doing their thing. I waited for a bit to give Alfred some time to clear out so he could relax, then silently made my way to the kitchen to bake some cookies. I was using one of my grandma's recipes--sandwich cookies with jam. It was nice to do something for myself. Alfred caught me, though, when I was assembling the cookies from the first batch once they'd cooled. He offered to take over, but I refused and put the kettle on.

"I was raised to do things for myself," I said absently as I carefully spread a spoonful of jam on a bottom cookie, then placed the top one on carefully. "And that includes some things that are regarded as typically feminine, like cooking and cleaning. I feel childlike, having you do everything, especially since you're better at it than I am." I shot him a quick grin.

"I have been at it longer than you have, Miss Alex," he murmured. I poured some hot water into a tea pot, measured out the loose tea leaves, and placed the pot, a tea strainer, cup and saucer, and plate with a couple of cookies in front of him. He blinked in surprise and I went back to work.

"Whoops," I said, dashing over with a small sifter of powdered sugar to dust his cookies.

"These are delicious, Miss Alex," he said.

"Thank you. My mom's mom lives in Kent these days, but when she'd come over for a visit when I was younger, she always made these cookies; they were a special treat." We chatted about England for a bit; I'd only been once, when I was a kid, but it had made an impression on me. 

As the last of the sandwich cookies were cooling, I made the chocolate crinkle dough. Cookies are easy to make, they just take time. Alfred told me where to find some baker's boxes to pack my cookies for transport, and I tried hard to make it neat and tidy, like I was demonstrating my competency. At that point, Damian appeared with coffee carafes, and Alfred sprung into action. Damian stole some cookies, complimented me, and went back downstairs with the coffee.

Alfred inquired about the quantity of cookies I was making, knowing the capacity of the Cookie Star. "I'm stress eating, I think," I said ruefully. "My waistband is getting tight. And my boss eats a lot, and my friend Aslyn knows about my stash, and we have a new lab assistant. I don't feel right about not offering some to her when we're all stuffing our faces." Alfred smiled.

"You seem very indulgent toward Mr Stark," he observed.

"I am," I said, rolling the chocolate dough first in granulated sugar, then in powdered sugar. "I feel kind of sorry for him."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, no mistake, he's brought a lot of trouble on himself, but I see something else. He's insanely smart, but his brain also works so fast that it's difficult to keep up with him. I wonder what that's like; it has to be isolating. He tries hard, but he has trouble relating to people, who look at all the things he has and thinks that material things compensate for everything. He's not going to have a flesh-and-blood heir, so he's grooming the most competent person he knows to run the business, but Peter doesn't have his flair or ability, and I think he's disappointed about that." I sighed. "Sometimes I think the best analogy for Tony is that he's running around in the dark, hitting things and wondering why it hurts. With the Avengers, it looks to me like he's paying to play. He cares so much and tries so hard to do the right thing, but he doesn't always know what that is and he can be too impulsive. And the others on that team, the senior members at least, kind of look down on him for his mistakes. Some of them have sure been been whoppers." I slide the sheet into the oven and go back to assembling the first cookies. "But at least he tried, most of them just follow along. They're happy to accept the gear, the weapons, the transport, the luxury housing, but they don't always seem to respect him, and that pisses me off, pardon my language. He's made a lot of progress as a person since I've known him, but he doesn't seem to get credit for it. I can't change how anybody else feels, but I can show my respect, and it doesn't hurt to just show a little kindness, even if it's just with cookies."

"You're very perceptive, Miss Alex," Alfred murmured, pressing the crumbs on the plate with his finger and inconspicuously licking them off. I grinned and brought over a couple more cookies. "I thought Mr Barnes got along with him well."

"He does," I said, nodding. "Uncle Bucky respects his abilities even if they're not ever going to be friends. Emma kind of normalized the bad behavior. Although they're friendly, she takes his money because she likes the freedom of research, but she doesn't always hide her contempt. I think that's wrong. If she thinks that little of him, she's got enough money to fund her own research. I think it's like biting the hand that feeds you. Tony's done some things that affected me negatively, but he's apologized for it and tried to make it better. He still backslides into bad behavior at times, but he tries more. And he's turned out to be a really good boss." I shrug.

"It is more difficult for old dogs to learn new tricks," Alfred observed. I smiled at him.

"I don't know about that, you don't seem to have trouble." We smiled at each other. He emptied the last of the tea into his cup and waved off the offer of another pot.

"I have always enjoyed tinkering and order," he said, sipping. "But I am not trying to change my basic behavior." I brought him over some of the chocolate cookies, straight from the oven. We talked a little more, I refused his offer to clean up, and he retired. I had to make two boxes of cookies, but that was ok, I was sure we'd make a dent in them the next day. I left some for the family as well, and started the dishwasher before going up to bed. I fell right to sleep and slept hard; I didn't even notice when Damian came up.

The next day, Tony was thrilled that I'd restocked the cookies, and Aslyn came up before lunch to grab some too. The Justice League took a few more days to work on their proposals, then most of them went back to whatever they did when they weren't working on League business. Superman and Wonder Woman stuck around and they met with senior members of the Avengers. I got Damian back but lost my boss for a week. I took over all the training for that time since Bucky was in on the discussions too. Lewis seemed to have taken a shine to Madison; he dropped in to flirt a little with more frequency.

I had no indication that the Joker was trying to get at me and relaxed a little although I remained vigilant. April gave way to May and J called to let me know what his travel plans would be. I wrote down the details so I could pick him up; he was taking the train. "I didn't know you had a brother," Madison said after I hung up.

"Yeah, he's in med school," I said. "He's got a couple of weeks before the summer term and is stopping here first before going to our parents. They'll come down and pick him up." I shuddered. "I hate to ride in cars with him. When we were kids he always used to get car sick on trips. He's grown out of it, but I remember." Madison laughed.

Amidst all of this, I got a reminder from the clinic that my annual exam was overdue, and I had to sandwich that in during a lunch. I told my doctor what had changed since my last exam in terms of my job and physical activity, and she asked if I had any concerns. "Yeah, I'm stress eating," I grumbled. "There's a criminal out there the police think is stalking me and it makes me nervous. I eat a lot of cookies and my waistband is tight." She had other questions about my health as she performed the exam, and checked my records as she did the data entry.

She looked at me sharply. "Your IUD has passed its expiration date. It should have been replaced a couple of months ago." Right, that would have been the time my annual had originally been scheduled. Shit. "Given that you're sexually active, that your period is a little late, and your birth control might have failed, we need to perform a pregnancy test before replacing your IUD, if that's what you want."

I barely heard her, I was freaking out. Damian and I had stopped using condoms once it had been a couple of STI tests between each of us and our last partners. I'd always used condoms religiously up to that point. I wasn't ready to be a mother, especially right now.

"Ok, it's not time to be worried yet," she said soothingly. "You're under a lot of pressure at the moment which can explain the late period and weight gain. Regardless of the test results, you'll want to cut down on the cookies. Work some fruit or veggies in there." The nurse came back in and shook her head. They'd tested my urine already and discarded it, so either I had to come back to give another sample or they could do the blood test, which would take longer. We did the blood test, and I went up to work, no longer hungry for my delayed lunch.

At home, I barely saw Damian, back late from catching up at work and having to go out on patrol. I slept uneasily and on my way out to work the next morning, confirmed with Alfred that I was picking my brother up at the train station and would bring him home after work. I was on pins and needles all day; the blood work wasn't a priority for anyone but me. Finally I left for the train station, jittery and out of sorts. I'd done training that morning in such a way that I wasn't working one on one by improvising a tournament of sorts among the students. Everybody had enjoyed it and it was good for them to be exposed to different fighting styles, but I'd refereed rather than participated and I missed the workout. A lot.

The time for J's arrival came and went and my mood blackened. I called his cell phone to find out where he was, but he didn't pick up. Ten minutes later, there was an announcement over the station's intercom that there was trouble on the line and the train had been delayed. I sighed and settled back into the chair. I started to worry about the effect of my mutations on any fetus I might carry. To the best of my knowledge, that impact had never been evaluated. I both wanted a cookie and to throw up, but settled for a quick email to my doctor, asking about that. Enhanced muscle was less flexible than normal muscle, I'd been told when the mutation was diagnosed, and it had proven to be so over the years; I'd had to work very hard to retain my flexibility but it had still decreased a little from my dancing days. And the uterus is mostly composed of smooth muscle. I recollected that I hadn't been out to Arkham yet to see if Harley would talk to me, and sent myself a reminder to carve out some time. Once Tony's meetings were over, it would be easier to carve out the time. Almost twenty minutes after the announcement, the train pulled in and I stood up, eager to collect my brother.

The train emptied out but no J. I called his phone again. No answer. Pissed, I stomped over to the ticket counter, reined in my temper, and politely asked for information. Which they couldn't provide, unfortunately. Passenger manifests were not public access.

I thanked the agent and turned away, not sure what to do. I called J again and this time told the little putz that he had some explaining to do. I didn't know what else I could do after sweeping the terminal again. Still no J. I sighed and headed for the doors. I was about ten feet away when my phone rang. I glanced down. It was my doctor. Just before I accepted the call, an arm circled my waist. "Hello, pretty," a familiar voice said in my ear.


	25. Joker returns

My heart stopped. "Joker," I said, and he growled at me.

"Little brother is waiting for you," he said. "But he won't live to go back to school if you don't go with me." He brought up a silver iPhone. J had one just like it although now he wished he'd gotten an Android. He turned it on and showed me an image of J, tied to a chair. He looked disheveled but not hurt. I turned my head to see the Joker looking at me malevolently. His green hair was shaded by a hat and he'd used foundation to cover his signature pallid skin.

"What do you want?" I asked, not moving.

"Payback, pretty. I don't remember what happened. One minute I was getting lucky, the next, I'm in Arkham, too weak to move. I couldn't get the lovely tapes I'd set up, apparently they aren't being kept in the evidence room." He snarled. "So we're going to have a conversation, in which I will use your little brother to inspire you to truthfulness... and then we'll see. Come on. No tricks. Your brother's life is in your hands." He shifted his grip to the back of my neck and shoved me. I went without a fuss. My first instinct was to activate the tracker, but I wouldn't put it past the Joker to have used a failsafe and I couldn't risk something happening until I was in a position to help. An ugly green van with no windows in the back part screeched up to the curb in front of Penn Station and as Joker shoved me toward it, the side panel opened. I was dragged inside and a bag put over my head. It was knotted uncomfortably tight at my neck, but not enough to cut off my breathing. I focused on the path the van was taking as somebody zip tied my hands behind my back. That wasn't bad, I knew how to get out of zip ties. It sounded like somebody was going through my purse. I heard them find the switchblade and report it to Joker.

"So you had a sting, pretty? I think I'd better find out whether you're concealing anything else," Joker said gleefully, and I felt his hands on me, squeezing and pinching unpleasantly. I kicked at him, and he slapped me, catching my ear, which really hurt. "Uh-uh, pretty. Now I'll have to take out your disobedience on your brother." He proceeded to slowly and thoroughly grope my body, allowing his scum thugs to make crude remarks. I snarled, planning my payback, but kept my focus on the movement of the van. I knew New York as a whole much better now, thanks to the simulator practice, and I could tell we were heading out of town by the same bridge I used to get home. Huh. I started to think about what was out that way, trying to figure out where his hideout was. It had to be a new place; the cops would have his old known lairs staked out. There were caves out there and Joker didn't mind setting up in them. It would have to be something like that, there weren't any abandoned properties out there; it was all old money. The van slowed, turned, and we were on an unpaved road, judging from the washboard ride. Joker fell, either against the side or on the floor, I couldn't tell, but it made me pleased. He swore at the driver, who was apologetic but there was only so much he could do. The van stopped, the engine turned off and ticking, and the door slid open. Somebody dragged me out and pulled me on uneven ground. I didn't try too hard to stay upright as I stumbled along, and staggered or fell just to be uncooperative. Men swore at me and dragged me, not stopping to let me get back on my feet. Up some stairs and across a porch; the surface was flat, stable, and sounded like wood under our footsteps. I tripped over the door jamb and was pulled down a hall, then up a couple long flights of stairs, then down another hall. Then I was shoved sideways, into a large room, where I tripped over my feet at the abrupt change of direction. The bag was pulled off my head and I squinted against the sudden light in what used to be a ballroom. The room was furnished with great taste, which didn't seem like Joker's style.

"What is this place?" I asked as I was hauled to my feet.

"The owners are out of town. Stuffy, prissy people with a very bland decorating style," the Joker opined, looking around. "They could benefit from a makeover, but I don't intend to be here that long." He grabbed the back of my neck again and forced me around. J was tied to a chair at the wall. I didn't see anything attached to him, so I quickly activated the tracker. The Joker didn't notice; as he stalked toward my brother, his goons brought out a table. That couldn't be good.

"Wakey, wakey," the Joker sing-songed to J, following by a hell of a wallop. My brother yelled, and the Joker looked satisfied. He grabbed J's chin and made him look at me. My brother's expression went from hurt and scared to hurt and terrified. For me. Joker held out his hand and a minion put something into it. He showed it to both of us. "It's a sap. Leather, filled with lead shot." And with that, the Joker wound up and struck J in the face. J gagged and blood gushed over his chin. The Joker smiled viciously and stalked toward me. I began twisting my wrists to snap the zip ties. They didn't yield.

Crap.

Joker pulled me over to the table and pushed me down on it; my hands formed a painful knot on my spine. He pried my knees apart (thank god I was wearing jeans) and stepped between them. After a moment of observation, he pulled my blouse open and without warning struck me just below the ribs with the sap. I cried out and he smiled savagely, stroking the skin creepily. I tried to concentrate on getting my hands loose, but it was if a dam had burst with that first blow and he beat me several times all over my torso. The pain was something else and made concentration difficult. His goons watched avidly as he raised the sap again and again. When I finally did break the zip tie, I couldn't move for the pain.

The Joker paused, grinning maniacally, and dropped his weapon on my abdomen. He pressed each of the marks he'd inflicted, and I used this as a rough gauge of the damage he'd inflicted. I didn't think there was any blood pooling, fingers crossed. I needed to get me and my brother to the hospital. I couldn't see him behind the Joker. I wasn't in a condition to beat the crap out of him this time, and it seemed like forever since I'd activated my tracker. Where the hell was everybody? A memory sprang into my mind. Natasha had told me once how cut off somebody's windpipe with one's thighs, in essence asphyxiating them. She'd called it a triangle hold, and when the Joker put his hands on the table by my hips, I pulled my hands out from under my back, flicked one leg over his shoulder, one under the opposite arm, pulled his arm across my body, and hooked my ankles. He howled and twisted, which was much to my benefit; it put his throat behind my knee and I could really exert pressure. He writhed, trying to get away, and this hurt a lot, but I kept my focus until he stopped moving. I waited a few seconds beyond that and released him, sitting up carefully. Two goons rushed me, and I scratched--well, gouged--one of them with the curved pointed pop-up band on my brass rat that Tony had engineered, making sure that sedative got into him. He dropped as I turned to the other one, who stopped his rush abruptly, held up his hands and started to back away. I wished I could see his face behind the stocking caps the goons wore. He turned and started to run as I walked slowly over to J. I'd have liked to move faster, but it hurt too much. I heard a thunk, and looked around just in time to see the goon run head-first into Iron Man. I couldn't laugh, it hurt too much, but I grinned.


	26. Cleaning up

I took a moment to appreciate the sight of Tony shaking the goon like a dog with a toy, then turned my attention to my brother. His face was bruised and his mouth still bled sluggishly. His arms and legs were zip tied to the chair. I carefully checked out his mouth first; all the teeth were intact although a couple might have been loosened. He was going to need stitches on the inside of his mouth, though. He gargled at me when I said so. Tony floated over, dragging the goon with him.

"Wayne's on his way," he said, popping up the mask on his suit to talk. "What do you need me to do?"

"I'm going to find something to pack his mouth with. Could you pop those zip ties?"

"Of course. I've been here for fundraisers before. I think there's some first aid stuff down the hall. There's a butler's pantry with a dumbwaiter." I nodded and headed for the door, then turned and scanned the area.

"Fuck," I half-shouted. The Joker was gone.

As I made my way down the hall, wrapping the blouse around me and tucking it into my waistband, I felt pretty certain that the Joker had just bruised the hell out of me. He'd been very skilled with the sap and I felt like he didn't want to kill me just yet. The pain didn't get any worse and there wasn't any feeling of pressure or anything that would make me worry. I was looking forward to going home and having Alfred check me out, though. In the pantry I did find a barely adequate first aid kit and trudged back.

As I rolled up gauze to pack J's mouth, I thought to ask if Detective McIver had been called, because I sure hadn't. Tony dragged the goon with him in search of either a land line or my purse. I was betting on a landline here. I placed the last gauze roll delicately, then asked him if he was hurt anywhere else, checking his wrists and ankles to make sure the zip ties hadn't broken the skin, but they'd just been tight. J shook his head.

I stood up when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Bruce burst in the room, surveying the space. "Are you two worse than you look?" he asked me, and I shook my head. "Where is he?"

"Got away. I thought I'd choked him, but he must have not been unconscious." He nodded and took off for the doors at the other end. I ambled over to the table and started picking up the buttons that had been torn from my shirt, putting them into my pocket. I don't know why, the shirt was torn in a couple places and I couldn't see wanting to wear it again after this. J got up and we leaned against the table.

"This isn't payback for calling off our plan, is it?" J asked, not seriously, nudging me with his elbow. I grimaced as he accidentally hit a sore spot.

"No, but if you keep poking my bruises, you'll regret it," I said testily, and he looked as contrite as possible. I heard more footsteps and we looked over. This time it was the one I was waiting for, and I smiled as Damian ran over.

"Oh, Alex, Sweet Pea, are you ok? Where is he?" he shot these questions at me as he folded me gently into his arms.

"I'm bruised but ok. He got away, damn it, your dad is in pursuit." I snuggled into him and felt better just from his reassuring presence.

"Is this your brother?" he asked, extending one hand long enough to shake J's hand before wrapping his arm around me again.

Uncle Bucky arrived just then, shook his head. He and J hugged before Bucky checked his mouth. Damian released me, although he kept his arm around my waist and I leaned against him. Tony came back, goon still in tow, dropping my bag by my feet. "McIver's on his way," he said briskly. "Did Wayne go after the Joker?" I nodded. I was getting pissed with myself for not having done better. After a brief conversation, Tony shoved his goon at Bucky and blasted off. I could see the goon's eyes widen as he saw the metal arm and put two and two together to make a very frightening four. Bucky scowled at him, directing the goon to sit in the chair J had been tied to, then standing where he could intercept any threats.

"If you so much as twitch, you'll regret it," was all that Bucky said, but it was enough. The goon edged toward it, never turning his back on Bucky, and sank down on it. Before Bucky could get started, however, the police arrived. McIver hustled into the room and took in the scene before him before walking over briskly.

"The Joker?" he asked, leaning over to take the mask off the goon who was just starting to stir.

I shook my head bitterly. "He got away."

"My dad and Tony Stark went after him," Damian said.

"Who's this guy?"

"My brother. And he needs to go to a dentist as soon as possible. He needs stitches, at least." McIver nodded and summoned one of the patrol officers to get him care, then take his statement.

"All, right, Alex. Let's get the interview done, then I'll send you home," he said, nodding at Damian. He gestured toward a female patrol officer, and I felt relieved. On the way out to a smaller room, I diverted briefly to pull the mask off the thug in the chair. I reeled back in surprise.

It was Vanilla.

McIver looked between us. "This is interesting," he said, and this time escorted me to a small parlor-type room across the hall.

"First of all, are you hurt?" he asked as we sat down.

"He worked me over with a sap," I said, frowning, feeling like I was forgetting something important. "But he seemed pretty skilled. I don't think I'll have anything more than bruises and soreness, but I'll get checked out."

"That's right, you have that paramedic certification," he said, then took me through everything that had happened since I set foot in the train station. McIver let me get through it, then had the female cop, named Suarez, photograph the bruises coming up, then I sat down as he asked more detailed questions about my timeline. "And now for the really interesting thing. How do you know that minion of Joker?"

"That is the most interesting question of the day," I said, leaning forward. "Because that's the guy who was the boyfriend of my friend who was killed in our apartment fire."

"Really?" McIver said, curiosity lighting his eyes. Officer Suarez leaned over the back of his chair.

"Yeah. We called him Vanilla, but his name is Thomas... somebody."

"Yeah, I remember you telling me about him."

"Why did you call him Vanilla?" Suarez asked.

I flushed. "Margaret was...adventurous in her personal life. She said that Thomas was not, so the nickname of Vanilla stuck." I shrugged. "It seemed to fit. He didn't seem to be interested in much outside of Margaret, didn't have much expression. He didn't like Aslyn, our other roommate, or me much, but he absolutely seemed to loathe us after Margaret was killed. I haven't seen him since the memorial service." Suarez smirked a little, and McIver sent her out to formally arrest him and put him in the patrol car. There was a tap on the door and another uniformed officer poked his head in to say that Tony and Bruce were back without the Joker. I scowled. McIver told me to wait, and went across the hall.

Then I sat bolt upright. Oh, my god, the call from the clinic. That's what I'd forgotten. How could I have forgotten? I dove for my purse, hoping that my phone was there... It was, the screen cracked, but I could still use it. I listened to the message. It seemed to take an irritatingly long time for the doctor to get to the point and tell me that I wasn't pregnant and I needed to schedule an appointment to replace the IUD. Yep, just as soon as I got some privacy. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, my hand resting momentarily on my lower abdomen. The Joker had hit me just above the pubic bone and I shuddered. Yeah, I wasn't going to get pregnant until the Joker was behind bars. I couldn't risk it.

When McIver returned, he had a few more questions for me about my watch and the tracer. We didn't discuss the goon on the floor, and I'd been vague about what had happened to him. I didn't think that the modification to my class ring was something that would be approved of, and pretty certain that my possession of a strong sedative was not legal. He sighed when I had explained the tracker. "I don't suppose it occurred to you to add the police to your list of callers?" he asked with irritation.

"Well, not really," I had to admit. "If it called 911, it would be pretty pointless because I can't answer any questions using it, and I don't know if it requires special equipment to trace, come to think about it. You'd have to ask Tony." McIver exhaled gustily and told me that Damian was waiting to take me home.

"I'll be in touch," he said, rather threateningly, I felt. I just nodded, grabbed my purse, and went out to the hall. I took Damian's arm and we went downstairs and out the door.

There were cars all over the place, parked haphazardly. Damian tucked me into the BMW and inched the car through the maze of official vehicles. Neither of us said anything until we got clear on the road. "Do you want to go to a hospital or is the bat cave ok?" he asked as he drove.

"Home is fine," I said. I noted that he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. "Could you pull off the road for a minute, honey?" It was a couple of minutes before he could turn into a small parking lot. He turned off the engine and turned to me. I took a deep breath and told him about the pregnancy scare. He didn't say anything immediately, just rubbed his eyes and then his cheeks. "I'm sorry," I added. "I can't believe I was so careless with my birth control."

"It'd be easy to lose track since it's a long-term solution," he sighed. "I'm both relieved that you're not pregnant and sad about it."

I nodded. "I'd be terrified to be pregnant with the Joker running around free and nursing a grudge," I agreed. "But the thought of having your baby..."

He leaned over and kissed me. "I want to have babies with you," he said. "But not now, and not until... well, I'd like us to be married first, and I'm just not quite ready for that yet. I want us both to be ready and actively wanting a child." I smiled.

"I'm not ready yet either. I feel like a pregnancy now... I don't want to feel like I'm forcing you into marriage, and I don't want a kid out of marriage, either. When we get home and I get scanned and all, I'll call the clinic to get a new IUD." He kissed my hand.

"Let's get through the Joker thing first, then take stock and figure out where we're going together," he said, and I agreed. He started the car again and drove home. Alfred was disturbed to hear about my afternoon and after the scan showed just bruises and painful areas but no serious damage, settled me in the library with some coffee and cookies. I'd lay off the cookies starting tomorrow, I decided. Damian joined me and we snuggled up together.

"Do you remember that conversation sofa from the Yale club?" I asked. "We sat in it during the holiday party. I loved being able to look at you while we talked."

"We should go up into the attic," he said. "There's piles of furniture up there. I can't cuddle you like this if we find one, though."

"We can hold hands as we talk." I smiled. "I be we could kiss over the divider."

"Well, kissing," he murmured. Alfred cleared his throat and presented Damian with a cup of tea. Damian made a pleased sound and I couldn't help but shake my head. He didn't even like a nice strong black tea, preferring delicate white or green teas or herbal infusions.

"I believe your brother is being returned to you, Miss Alex," he informed me, then glided off to the door. I gave Damian a quick kiss and stood up. He came with me as J stepped into the house.

"Welcome, Master Jaimez," Alfred greeted him, tugging a bit on J's suitcase. Bemused, my brother released the handle. I gave him a careful hug.

"How's your mouth?"" I asked anxiously.

"Still num," he said with a little difficulty, and I nodded. "Loosened a molar, cuts."

"This is Alfred," I introduced them.

"Niss t' meet you," J said.

"The pleasure is mine," Alfred said crisply. He turned away with the suitcase as I introduced Damian. J squinted at him a little suspiciously, but they shook and slapped each other's shoulder in a manly fashion.

"Let's go to the library," I suggested. "J, do you want an ice pack?" He indicated that it would be welcome. Damian suggested that I take him to the library and he'd fix an ice pack. J sank down into the most comfortable chair with a sigh, then thanked Damian when he came back.

"So how did the Joker get his hands on you?" I burst out.

J shook his head. "The train was stopped on the tracks outside the city, and these weird guys with masks got on and started looking at the passengers. They demanded ID from a few other guys around my age before they got to me. Then they pulled me off the train, put a sack over my head and shoved me into a disgusting old car. Smelled like mold. Then we went upstairs in that house and they tied me to that chair, hit me a few times, took my picture. I didn't see that man--the Joker? until you got there."

"He must have gone to the station while his minions were snatching you," I growled.

"Minions?" J managed a smirk at me.

I swatted his leg. "I can't believe I let him get away. Again!"

"Why didn't you just kick his ass in public?" J asked.

"Because I didn't know if he'd booby trapped you. If he had, he could have blown you up."

Damian made the little chattering 'Ttt' sound he made when he was irritated or upset. "I didn't even think about that," he said, "but he's done that to hostages before."

"Shit," J said faintly. I eyed him sidewise.

"You going to tell the parents?" I inquired.

He gave me a side eye too, and after a moment I grinned and he tried to. "What?" Damian asked.

"Not unless we have to," I translated. "Gotta get to Bucky, though, see if he'll agree not to mention it." Damian looked between the two of us, then started to laugh.

"I kind of feel sorry for your folks," he said. We shrugged. We didn't see the point of worrying them unnecessarily. It all depended on whether J could heal fast enough before he visited. We had the tissue accelerator on our side, though.

The conversation went onto a nicer track as Damian and J got to know one another better, and I mostly sat and watched, chiming in now and then. I was glad they were getting along. This pleasant situation was interrupted by the arrival of Bruce, Tony (in civvies instead of his armor), and Bucky. All three of them looked pissed and harassed. Thus ended the happy fun time.


	27. Cleaned up

Alfred materialized, relieving Bruce of his briefcase and offering drinks, returning with a tray of coffee cups. The men found seats. "He got away," Bruce said tensely, and I shook my head.

"That's on me. I should have double-checked, or at least kicked his head a few times," I said apologetically. "I allowed myself to be distracted by J."

"Understandable," Bucky said, nodding at me. "But we'll do some work on priorities and threat assessment. Did you two check out ok?"

"Yeah," I said. "And we have a tissue accelerator with the wand so J can heal faster." I gave him a side eye. "Do you think you have to mention this to Mom and Dad, Uncle Bucky?" Beside me, J tried to give a winning smile. It came off kind of gruesome instead, and I nudged him with my elbow. Tony chortled.

"They're your parents," Bucky temporized.

"We weren't planning on bringing it up," I said bluntly. "There wasn't a commotion in the train station, and the news will probably have a note that the train was stopped and a passenger removed. That in itself isn't terribly newsworthy in this city."

"I have independent insurance, so they won't be getting a bill for the dentist," J chimed in.

"Yeah, I meant to tell you I'll pay for that," I said, turning toward my brother. "You wouldn't need to use it if you hadn't been caught up in my mess." J protested, but I pointed out that anything involving a dentist was expensive and he had to pay tuition for summer session still.

"The city has a fund for civilians hurt by supervillain activity," Tony said. "Hash it out on your own time." I decided not to argue; if J applied to the fund, I'd just donate the amount to the fund. Then Bruce had J and me tell our stories again for the group. They were silent awhile as they turned this information over in their minds.

"Those recordings he had from your previous encounter are locked up in Commissioner Gordon's office," Bruce told me. "There was concern about the nature of the recordings and the fact that almost anybody can be bribed if the bribe is right."

"That's good news. I really don't want the Joker to see that, especially the ending. I suppose it's a bit much to hope that an EMP goes off outside his office," I said morosely.

"Yes," Bruce said firmly.

"You never know what might happen in the next alien invasion," Tony said logically. Bruce scowled at him and Bucky just looked at me. I was suddenly starting to feel better about the next Kree/Skrull invasion attempt.

After that, there wasn't much more to say. I still felt bad that I'd let the Joker get away. Bruce invited Tony and Bucky to dinner, but Tony had a date and Bucky wanted to get home. During dinner, Bruce and Damian took the lead, chatting with J, getting to know him. Since J didn't know about Damian or Bruce's alter egos, they had to invent a story about why Bruce arrived with Bucky and Tony. As usual, the cover story was as thin as possible; he encountered them as they pulled up to the mansion. We chatted in the library after dinner, then Bruce and Damian needed to do some work they'd brought home, so J and I took the dog out for a tour of the immediate environs.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am that you got caught up in my mess," I told J as I threw a stick for Hestia.

"I had no idea visiting you was going to be so exciting," he said lightly. "If there's a next time, though, don't worry about me unless I'm bleeding out. Put that asshole back in a coma." I saluted. After we wandered back in, Alfred handed me the portable accelerator (that he'd brought up from the bat cave) and I used the wand on the stitches in J's cheek; it looked a lot better once I was done.

"That's amazing," he said as I repacked the case after cleaning the wand. "They have a full-sized one at the teaching hospital, but nobody said anything about a portable version. What does it run?"

"About five years worth of my annual salary, so you'll have to buy this one yourself," I commented, and he stuck out his tongue at me. Brothers. After that, we decided to make an early day of it and said good night to Bruce and Damian. Damian would be up later, of course, but I fully planned on being asleep then. It had been quite a day. I took J to his room on the second floor; it was right by the turret so if he just wanted to relax with a cup of coffee, he had an excellent view. The cushions on the window seats had just been replaced, so it would be comfortable. Then I trudged upstairs and got ready for bed. I was so tired I don't even know when Damian came up.

The next morning, J went into work with me and watched as Bucky and I worked out. Then Bucky gave me some threat assessment exercises and told me to start using them in the way I saw the world. If a gun man came into the convenience store, what would I do if it was just me and the clerk? Would anything change if there were other customers? Or other robbers? He drew on his assassination training to tell me how to decide on an order for targets should I need to know. I knew without asking that he'd probably start to giving me pop quizzes. Then our students started coming in, and I got absorbed by that. After training, J went to lunch with Aslyn and me, then I got a day off from the simulator as Bucky let him play around--to start, but Bucky can't resist a learning opportunity and showed him some defensive driving techniques. J would be hanging out with Uncle Bucky for the rest of the day, so I went to the clinic to get that IUD replaced (and felt so much relief when I sat up) and have a session with our accelerator, then to work. Tony took my ring and returned it with the sedative gel reapplied. Otherwise, neither of us referred to the incident. Emma didn't either, when she came down with some macaroons that afternoon.

The week passed too quickly. I took a day off and J and I poked around the city, and Damian took a day and they did a boy's tour of the city. I was glad that they were making an effort to get to know each other and they seemed to get along well. The day after that, there was a change of plans and J went into the city with Bruce and Damian to spend time in their medical research division. Then J spent his final day looking up old classmates in the city and getting reacquainted. Mom and dad showed up the next day to take him home with them. Both J and I just smiled when they asked if we'd had a peaceful week. That made them a little suspicious, but we diverted them quickly with a few stories of things we'd done. Whew.

As nice as it had been to see J again, I was glad to go back to my routine. As I'd expected, Bucky had Avengers ambush me here and there. Sometimes there were hostage situations, sometimes not. Sometimes there were weapons involved, sometimes it was just hand-to-hand. I saw Pietro a lot; Bucky said later that he volunteered a lot. Probably revenge for training.

Detective McIver came by for a visit and he sat me down to tell me how Vanilla tied in. Apparently he'd flirted with the gang lifestyle when he was younger and had owed a debt to a senior member who had saved his life in a drive-by shooting. That debt came due a few years ago, when Vanilla, fresh out of college and new to his job in a Wall Street bank, was contacted and introduced to a man--no name was given--but who turned out to be a henchman for the Joker, one of his chief minions. This turned out to be when the Joker recovered enough to make plans. A guard had been placed there to monitor the Joker; if he recovered, his surprisingly loyal minions wanted to be sure someone was ready to help.

"He's been alert for over two years?" I asked, disbelieving. McIver nodded.

"He's a better actor than anybody knew. This will also weigh heavily against him trying to get another stay in Arkham when he's caught," he said. "So Thomas Jones-Vane started doing petty crimes, assisting with robberies and muggings, taking over couriering drugs to a few Wall Street traders. And, as it turned out, stealing blueprints from the city's housing inspector. He worked there as an intern one summer in college when he thought he might want to study architecture."

"Let me guess. Those were all buildings that were hit by the S'mores killer," I said, feeling sick. McIver sighed.

"Unfortunately, yes. And he said that he'd stolen more blueprints than there have been arsons, so this isn't over yet. He claims he can't remember all the ones he'd taken. He also said that it was done to obscure an insurance scam--the Joker owned a couple of the buildings and they needed money to finance the plans."

"Was our building one of the ones that he'd stolen?" I asked. McIver nodded. I looked at the ceiling for a moment. Poor Margaret. "I don't suppose he knows who the arsonist is."

"Says no, and I tend to believe him. The DA offered him a suspended sentence if he'd give up the arsonist, which would have been a huge incentive for him. But he still says he can't identify the guy, the sketch artist's work shows a thin man, early middle age, utterly forgettable."

"Shit," I said softly, and McIver nodded. I looked over as the door opened. Lewis came in and looked at Madison's desk.

"Sorry, Lewis," I said. "Madison called in sick today." He nodded and tuned.

"Lewis?" McIver said alertly. "Lewis Jones-Vane?" Lewis took off running.

"Friday, seal off this floor," I said, and the AI complied. All doors locked, the elevator wouldn't be able to stop at the floor. McIver ran after Lewis, and I caught up with them in the hall. McIver was putting the kid in handcuffs. "I guess I know how the information on my brother's visit got out," I said sourly. Lewis wouldn't meet my eyes.

I had the AI release the security measures, and McIver took Lewis away, promising to update me later. I trudged up to Tony's office and told him what had happened. He was livid about Lewis, and when I left, he was calling HR to instruct them to cooperate with the police investigation fully, including the release of Lewis's company file.

Those revelations cast a pall over my mood. Madison was questioned by the police about her relationship with Lewis. They'd gone out a couple times and she was genuinely upset to learn that he'd been seeing her just to have some access to my desk and computer. Lewis had confessed that he'd flirted with her to get information to help his brother out. He'd also been able to provide a couple of addresses his brother had taken him to deliver the information or to get new instructions. In exchange for the information, he'd be tried as a juvenile.

When I got home Friday afternoon, Bruce had arranged a surprise to get my mind off things. A landscaping company had come out and made a couple of big flower beds out by the patio. Damian and I would design the plantings, and Dick and Barbara would come out to help us plant everything. "Where are you going to be, Dad?" Damian asked, frowning.

"I'll be supervising the work from the patio," Bruce said calmly. "Sipping a drink. Somebody has to stay fresh to fight crime."

"Father," Damian said in exasperation. Bruce shrugged, unrepentant.

After dinner, Damian and I went outside with our laptops to measure the beds and look at different plants. We pulled up the spreadsheet on the meaning of flowers and planned for an apple tree (good fortune, better things to come), a variety of rosebushes (love, desire, charm, perfect happiness, grace, thankfulness), and a variety of other flowers, such as zinnias (constancy), violets and pansies (faithfulness, remembrance), dwarf sunflowers (adoration), Queen Anne's Lace (haven), poppies (pleasure, imagination), alyssum (worth beyond beauty), carnations (admiration, fascination, pure love), daisies (loyal love), delphinium (flights of fancy), gladiola (strength of character, generosity), petunias (your presence soothes me), iris (faith, valor, friendship, wisdom), lavender (devotion), and lilacs (first emotion of love). We wanted bulbs too, like tulips (love, worthiness), hyacinth (playfulness, loveliness, constancy), crocus (cheerfulness), and daffodils (regard, respect), but those would have to wait til fall. Then we took a walk in the early darkness, well lit by an almost full moon. We fetched up in the gazebo by the lake where we thought to plant some wisteria (welcome) and ended up making love for the first time since my pregnancy scare.

The next day, we coerced Alfred to going to the garden centers with us. Each of us took a car so there'd be room for all the plants. Additionally, we had Alfred pick out the herbs he wanted for his kitchen garden in the conservatory. When we got back home, Bruce helped us haul the flowers around to the flower beds and position them according to the preliminary diagrams we'd made. Then after lunch, Dick came out to the house to help us take out the dwarf palm in the conservatory. He and Bruce said that they could get it done no problem, so I shrugged, smiled, and Damian and I played around with the placement of the flowers, making sure to leave room for the bulbs, amending the diagrams as we went along. An hour and a half later, we were done and Alfred had vacuumed out the bits of soil that the plants had left in the cars, but Bruce and Dick hadn't reappeared. After a refreshing glass of lemonade (I resisted the cookies), we ambled up to the conservatory with the herbs to find Dick and Bruce just finishing up. I suppressed my 'told you so' and took the gardening fork to loosen the compacted soil and mix in new soil and compost as they flopped down in the chairs. It didn't take that long to do and Damian helped me plant the herbs attractively and water them in. At this point Alfred arrived with refreshments and was very complimentary about his new kitchen garden. He hefted the palm and disappeared.

The next day went as planned; Dick (moving a little stiffly) and Barbara came for a delicious brunch , then we went outside to put the plants into the ground. Bruce, true to his word, hung out on the patio, ready for crime, drinking iced coffee and reading the Financial Times. It only took a couple of hours to get everything done and watered in. It was very satisfying to do the gardening and nice to spend time with the whole family. Then Dick thought that we should have a water feature, and Bruce jumped all over that. Alfred floated the idea of a barbecue grill, and the men were enthralled at the idea of playing with fire. Damian proposed a fire pit as well. Barbara and I smiled at each other and she started looking for books on her phone.


	28. Safe travels

Things got back to normal fairly quickly. J went back to school with no further incidents after a good week at the parents. The incident seemed to have slipped everybody's mind. Tony instituted tighter restrictions on who had access to computer terminals and accounts and had IT personnel put through a supplementary background check, including the interns. Tony is always looking out for me.

And in a surprise turn, Aslyn showed me her brand new engagement ring at lunch. She had a huge, beautiful one and a half carat Asscher-cut diamond solitaire, and I was really pleased for her. Her fiance, Edward, had taken her to dinner the night before and proposed in a carriage ride by Central Park. Very romantic. That was the problem with having a nighttime vigilante as my significant other. The dates were harder to come by, although this was more than balanced out with the lovely little things he did for me all the time. Like dropping everything when my brother was attacked by the Joker. Damian did go with me to their engagement party, which was lovely. I was so glad to see her so happy; she practically glowed. Karen and Rill came back for it and it was wonderful to see them. Karen had achieved the rank of soloist with her company, and it didn't look like she was going to go any higher. That, coupled with early arthritis in her right foot was convincing her to call it a career. She was planning to see this season out, then retire and come home to work in her family's business. Happy day. We emailed and Skyped, but it wasn't the same.

The week after that, I went to the ballet with Natasha, something we'd gotten into the habit of doing around four times a year. It was still as fun as it had been to see the Bolshoi. But the next day, after we'd finished stretching, she told me that she'd been diagnosed with leukemia. Stage three. The doctors had said it was very aggressive and probably linked to the treatments she'd been given in the Red Room. I tried hard to keep it together while she was there, but afterward hustled to the bathroom and cried. It was a hell of a shock. She hadn't said that I could tell anybody, so I kept the knowledge to myself until she told the rest of the Avengers. It was a terrible blow for them too; she'd been a constant since the formation of the team and had provided a lot of stability as well as being well liked. Her decline was rapid, three months. Clint quit the Avengers when she was bedridden, a month before she died. After her funeral, he packed up and left, moving upstate to solitude. Kate took over as Hawkeye, but the loss of her mentor hit her hard too. All in all, I was grateful for the fall. The summer had been hard and terrible.

Damian threw me a lovely party out in the new garden for my birthday, with my parents, Bucky and Emma, Tony, and my friends. He gave me a beautiful diamond and platinum bracelet that looked like a tendril of ivy (love, fidelity). 

It started to get colder in early October, so we planted bulbs all throughout the new flower beds. I was looking forward to them filling in next summer. Bruce brought home some different plans for a koi pond, but we changed it to just water lilies (purity of heart) after Alfred pointed out all the predators who would love to eat our fish. I was glad to line up a landscaper who would do the work in the spring.

The S'mores killer struck twice more that fall, but an off-duty police officer caught him setting a third fire and made the arrest. His name was Joe Rigger, and he'd been a demolitions man in the military. He'd been honorably discharged and returned to the city. He wasn't very stable and made himself a suit that threw napalm, and turned to arson for profit. McIver kept me informed on these developments. It was big news when he rolled on the Joker and his minions, claiming that it had all been the Joker's idea. This was greeted with skepticism by the public, who were unaware that the Joker had been pulling the strings from inside Arkham. This was information that the police and DA's office were holding back for a trial, including where the blueprints came from than enabled him to set such devastating fires. The media started calling him Firebug.

Just before Halloween, Damian and I went in to the attic, which ran the length and width of the house aside from the conservatory. Some of the attic was a series of small rooms that the servants had used, back when the house required a large staff to run it. The rest was storage. There was a lot of old furniture up there. We didn't poke around much; there was a fair amount of dust, and we worried that if we started, we'd never stop. We did find a tete-a-tete couch, but it was in distress. Since even Alfred didn't know everything, we took it to be mended and reupholstered, selecting a deep, rich green to complement the rosewood. It was delivered when we were at work, and by the time we got home, Alfred had placed it in the corner of the library, cozy and intimate but not cut off from the rest of the room. Outside of our bedroom, It was my favorite place in the mansion. Winston's too; we often had to boot him off in the evenings.

Damian had a two week trip to London, Prague, and Budapest for business; Tony gave me vacation so I could go with him. I was so excited; I'd never been outside the US and those three cities were among the ones I'd wanted to see for as long as I could remember.

I left work at lunch to get ready for the trip the next day; I'd already bought nice luggage to replace my old roll-on and all I needed to do was pack. Traffic was fairly heavy for noon, and I daydreamed a bit as I crept along the road to the bridge.

WHAM! The vehicle behind me slammed into the my bumper, shaking me back to the present. I swore and reached to turn off the car so I could get out and inspect the damage, when the vehicle (a large, anonymous black SUV) hit me again. This time, there was a struggle for dominance as I kept the brakes on and the SUV shoved me forward. Fortunately there was a gap between my car and the one in front, so I didn't hit them too. Just then the traffic began to flow, and I got on the bridge.I didn't like it, but there was nowhere else to go. The SUV slammed into me again, and I got worried. I pressed the button to release the caltrops; the SUV swerved wildly but the driver managed to get it under control again and charged ahead. In the rear-view mirror, I could see the rims starting to spark on the road.

I saw an opportunity and hit the two remaining countermeasures at once, taking advantage of the lighter traffic. I was over the bridge and more nimble than the pursuer, even though there was a grinding noise from the rear axle. I just had to make it home...

The SUV dropped back and a smile turned up the corners of my mouth. I called Damian. I was updating him on what was going on and I could hear him calling the police on his office phone. I was about to hang up when something streaked into my perepheral vision and hit the front quarterpanel. I lost control immediately as the my sweet little roadster was forced off the road and into a pillar of an underpass. The next thing I knew, I was stunned from hitting the airbags, the door was ripped open and I was dragged out. In the distance, I could hear sirens. Two people dragged me past the large silver sedan that had crashed into me to a third vehicle, a smaller, beige SUV. I was shoved into the back, duct tape slapped over my mouth, wrists and ankles bound. I thought I might have a concussion since I was feeling very nauseated. I didn't want to throw up because of the gag, and I spent however much time the trip took trying to prevent it. The zip ties bit into my skin; they were tightened as much as they could be, no wiggle room, which prevented me from activating my tracker. After some time, the SUV stopped.

The door opened and I was pulled out and slung over some guy's shoulder. I started to struggle violently, and another man ripped off the duct tape. "What is wrong with you?" he asked crossly, and I didn't bother to try saying anything as my stomach rebelled and I threw up all over both of them, the best projectile vomiting performance of my life. And I had a lot to work with--I'd gone to lunch with Aslyn before heading home. The guy carrying me shrieked in disgust and dropped me on the ground and kicked me, cussing me out. The other man told him to stop, and dragged me gingerly to the door of what looked like a warehouse, older and comfortably shabby. It wasn't far, but the coarse asphalt of the parking lot cut through my slacks pretty fast. I was hauled over a threshold and over smooth concrete, before being dumped on the floor. 

I looked around, struggling to sit up. I started as the Joker loomed over me, scowling. "I told you to bring her to me, not... What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouted at his minion.

"She threw up all over us," the man protested.

"Shut the fuck up. Bring some damp paper towels."

The man shuffled off, returning shortly with a scowl on his face and a fistful of coarse brown paper towels, slightly moistened. The Joker instructed him to clean my face, which he did ungently. (I'd taken some care to aim for the goons. With my head lower than my body, I escaped pretty much unscathed.) Meanwhile, the Joker brought a folding metal chair and placed it in front of me, then pulled me up and dropped me on it. Then he saw my wrists and ankles and shrieked at his minions. My feet and hands were swollen and dark. Good help is hard to find, apparently even in the criminal underworld. He got a rather unnervingly large knife, which he let me take a good long look at before cutting the zip tie on my wrists, nicking the skin a little. It hurt a whole lot as the blood started moving again. He let me chafe my wrists, enjoying the little whimper I couldn't suppress. I took the opportunity to activate my tracker, but my fingers were clumsy and I also set off the alarm. Tony had been right, it was crazy loud. Everybody flinched away, and I took the opportunity to hop away. I'd gotten about ten feet when I was tackled from behind and went down. The watch was ripped from my wrist and silenced. I guess the goon was yelling at me but I couldn't hear over the ringing in my ears and the excruciating pain radiating from my shoulder. Then the Joker, walking over very quickly, looked at me malevolently and with an enormously vicious backswing, cut the goon's throat with the knife. I locked eyes with the goon just before the blood fountained out of the gash in his neck. I started to scoot away before he hit the ground, but the Joker grabbed my ankle zip tie and dragged me back to the chair. I could see the smeared trail of blood behind me.


	29. Power play

It felt like my shoulder was on fire, and not a nice little candle, either. An inferno. So I was down an appendage and the fight hadn't even started. The good news was that the tracker had been activated. The cavalry would be on the way to rescue my sorry ass again. The Joker stopped and dropped my feet when we got to the chair. He tsked and bent over to wipe the tears from my face. "What hurts, pretty?" he cooed.

"M-my shoulder," I said. The pain in my voice was real but the weakness was not.

"Shouldn't have tried to escape," he said reprovingly.

He hauled me up more gently and dumped me in the chair, stepping back and studying me. He prodded my shoulder and I screamed. He nodded, stepping back again. I slumped against the back of the chair, limp all over, and, I hoped, defeated-looking. I could use a minute to recover.

He prowled around me, and I felt his fingers delicately stroking my hair, my uninjured shoulder. The top of my breast. Down my arm to my hand. He wrenched off my brass rat and tossed it away. I drew breath to protest, and he slapped me. "That belongs to your past, pretty," he hissed. "You're going to be remade, a brand-new toy for the Joker." He straddled my lap and I couldn't wipe the grimace off my face at having to be this close to him again. He still emitted that weird odor. I'd probably never forget it. "Never forget that I can do what I want with you," he said in my ear, then started to play with my hair, touching my face, gripping my neck, groping me as he worked his way down my torso. Then he sat there, straddling my lap, contemplating me. "You see, pretty, a man likes to have companionship, and Harley's in the pokey. Besides, you can see the wear and tear on her some, and I'm of the opinion it's time to look for the future. I've been busy picking up the reins of my empire again, but I've become aware of the need for an heir." I couldn't stop the full-body wave of disgust I felt. He poked my shoulder again and I whimpered and tried not to cry. "You're seeing the little Wayne, living with him, probably wondering if he'll make an honest woman out of you, fucking him every chance you get, knowing that if you get knocked up you'll be set for life. So what's the difference, really? I'm not as rich as the Waynes--yet--and to you, I'm sure one cock is the same as another. I come in you instead, you don't put up an excessive fight--you know I like it when you play hard to get, though, pop out a few mini-mes, and maybe I'll keep you around even when you start to sag." He nodded, and I tried not to throw up again. Then he stood up and gave me the hardest backhand I'd ever felt. I couldn't control the tears and wails as my shoulder smacked against the chair back. He let me sob, then snapped his fingers to get my attention.

"I own you," he said malevolently. "Do you understand?" I nodded once, looking away, and slumped, using my free hand to wipe tears and snot off my face.

"Please, will you loosen the zip tie on my ankles?" I asked submissively. That maniacal grin spread across his face and he grabbed my face, making me look him in the eye. I made sure to look defeated.

"Do you promise not to try to escape?" I nodded. "Say it," he commanded.

"I promise not to try to escape," I whimpered. It was true, I wasn't going to try to escape him again.

He was satisfied and crouched in front of me with the knife, still bloody. I cringed, and he showed it to me before quickly cutting the plastic tie. I almost swooned at the feeling of blood circulation, then the pain from it hit and I almost fell off the chair from it. He clapped a hand on my good shoulder to keep me in it. When I started to recover, he wrenched my knees apart and stood between them. "Not that I don't trust you right now, but I don't trust what you'll do when when you feel a little better. The fight in you is delicious, pretty, but this time, I'm going to insist on having my way. And while I"m not going to fuck you right away, I do need to soften you up, make you more receptive to me. You're too stubborn, too unaccustomed to a man's authority. That Wayne kid has no idea how to handle you. So we'll have our first session, then, depending on how that goes, maybe I'll have you suck my dick. But if you even think about using your teeth, you won't have them long enough to have a second thought." Then he hauled off and drove his fist in my stomach, followed by another hard slap. His grin grew and the front of his pants twitched. Just when I thought I couldn't be any more revolted...He stepped away from me, then as his fist started to swing, I tucked my useless hand into my waistband and kicked to take care of that unpleasant stirring erection, then kicked again when he buckled. A wheezing gasp escaped him. I stood up. He looked at me in agony, his hands locked over his groin. I smiled.

"It's my turn now, Joker. And this time I want you conscious for every little bit of it."

***

When my backup arrived, the Joker was a heap on the floor and I was searching for my ring. The door burst open and Damian elbowed past his father, running in and right to me, just as I found my ring. "Sweet pea," he said, sounding like he was going to cry. My eye was swelling shut and my face was swollen from the slaps.

"It's my shoulder," I cautioned as he came in for a hug. His face darkened dangerously and he whipped around, cat fast, to glare at the Joker. His dad was bent over, looking at him. He shook his head.

"He's down for the count, Alex. The police are on their way. Stand down, Damian." There was a moment of silence where the only sound was the bubbly sound of Joker's breathing. I could hear the sirens and carefully stepped close to Damian, hugging him lightly with my good arm and resting my head on his shoulder. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I was really starting to ache. He gently put his arm around me and stroked my hair.

Iron Man burst in just ahead of the cops, and he looked around grimly. "You ok, Alex?" he asked.

"Not really," I said, trying to smile, shuddering instead. "I'm going to need the hospital this time."

He clanked over to the Joker and looked down. "There's not even anything left for me to do," he said, sounding disappointed. Bruce nodded, and they had a low conversation which I didn't bother to try to track. I was really feeling bad now and started to shake. The sounds of sirens were killed, there were many car doors opening and closing, the excited sounds of police as they came into the warehouse and took it all in--the dead henchman, the Waynes, Iron Man, the wreck of the Joker, and me. Detective McIver took control and came over.

"Give me a quick run down on what happened here and you'll be in the ambulance as soon as possible," he promised, and I told him about the incident on the bridge (minus mention of Alfred's little additions), how I hurt my shoulder, the henchman, the Joker hitting me, me beating the hell out of the Joker. "You're kind of scary, Barnes," was all he said as he motioned the paramedics forward. Damian helped me ease onto the gurney and I was briskly wheeled out. I kept it together until I was alone in the ambulance with the medics. I told them where it hurt, then spent the drive to the hospital crying, trying not to scare the medics. I was whisked into the ER of some hospital, watching the strips of lighting whip by as I was wheeled down a hall. I manged to tell the doctor that there was something wrong with my shoulder, I'd been run off the road, and that I'd been beaten a bit before I passed out.

When I woke up, it was nice and quiet and I felt floaty, but a strong undercurrent of pain was waiting to suck me in. A nice older woman leaned into my vision. "Alex? I'm Dr Hamilton. You're in a recovery room in the hospital after having surgery for a fairly serious injury." She told me that I had a badly bruised midsection from both my seatbelt and the blows the Joker had landed but that there wasn't any damage that needed medical attention. I'd landed badly on my shoulder, breaking the bone on the concrete. There were screws involved, other stuff, but I didn't pay much attention, and she let me go back to sleep again.

When I woke up again, I was in a different room, still the solo patient, curtains closed, monitors beeping softly. The drugs were much better in this room, and I felt somewhat optimistic. My good hand was very warm. I looked down to see that Damian had fallen asleep in the chair pulled up to the bed but was still clutching my hand. Aw. I ran my thumb over his fingers and watched him twitch. I did it again and his free hand brushed his nose. "Honey," I said softly, or tried to. I had to clear my throat, which is what woke him up.

"Sweet pea," he said tenderly, raising my hand to his lips and kissing it. "How are you feeling?"

"No pain. Medication is an excellent medical achievement." He sighed and scooted closer.

"So you broke your shoulder, they had to screw it back together. You'll be out of commission for a bit, Petal." I chortled. "Lots of bruising, but they treated it with a tissue accelerator, and they also treated the ligature marks on your wrists and ankles so they don't scar." He paused and muttered in Arabic.

"Will you teach me those cuss words someday?" I fluttered my eyelashes at him. "I'd love to know what you're saying." He stared at me a moment and laughed.

"I'm sorry I messed up our trip," I said humbly. "But I'm going to be ok, you can probably catch the flight. What time is it, anyway?"

He signed and checked his watch. "Two fifteen in the morning. And if you think for a second I'm leaving you when you're in the hospital, you're on too many drugs, Alixzandrya god damned Barnes." He was kind of roaring at the end of that.

"Geeze. You don't have to yell, honey. That London deal is important, you said."

He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. I took the moment to enjoy how adorable he is. He tried again. "Sweet pea. You are the love of my life, and I am not traipsing out of the country when you've just come out of surgery after being brutalized by that fucker again." His voice was perfectly calm, but there was an edge about him that usually meant mayhem. I patted his hand.

"You're the light of my life, darling, and I really appreciate that you're here. I'm not questioning your devotion, I'm just saying I'll be ok. So if you needed to go you could. We can Skype."

"Alixzandrya. Dad went to London, left after you came out of surgery and they said you were going to be fine. The rest of it can wait until you're able to enjoy it with me. We will not be Skyping because I am going to be by your side." My eyes welled up but I didn't have a free hand to wipe. Damian did, though.

The moment was broken by the arrival of a nurse. Damian got up and stood away while the nurse checked everything. After she left, there were many things I wanted to ask Damian, but I couldn't help falling asleep instead.


	30. Jokin' around

I was in the hospital for two days. Two days too many, if you ask me. (And yay for Tony's excellent insurance.) They used the accelerator, which allowed me to shower (thank you, lord!) but there was nothing to be done for the bone, which would have to heal on its own. On the bright side, with the screws in, I didn't have to immobilize the shoulder. I still had to be very careful because muscles, ligaments and tendons had been stretched and were still a little delicate even after treatment. Tony told me to take a week off and that he'd fire me if I showed my face in the tower during that time, so that was nice. Bruce took a chunk of time for a little vacation while he was away on the London business; Damian said, grinning, that Selina had disappeared too.

My folks came down for a couple of days to reassure themselves that I was ok and J asked if I wanted him to come up, but I wasn't that badly hurt and he needed to study. My aunt and uncle stopped by a few times after work to visit and Aslyn made a point of calling. But mostly I slept in, and Damian took half days, so that was nice. Very nice. Alfred made himself scarce in the afternoons but doted on me in the mornings and prepared little treats for us. Dick and Barbara stopped by several times and they took over patrolling the city, which was strangely quiet. Grayson, Winston, and Hestia didn't show any special affection, but they were thrilled to have me home when I wasn't usually.

My insurance settled up quickly on my poor car and toward the end of my week Alfred took me to the Jaguar dealership to replace it. And he proceeded to modify that one too. I kind of wanted a button that would feature a raised middle finger to any supervillains and their goons on my bumper, but I was afraid to suggest this to Alfred, not wanting to lower his opinion of me. Damian had retrieved my personal belongings from the wreck, and he was still white-lipped when he came home, so my beloved roadster must have been just toast.

I found out from McIver which hospital had the Joker and asked to see him. McIver said he couldn't approve a visit, but mentioned when he showed up to talk with the police guards. I managed to slip in somehow.

He was asleep when I closed the door behind me. The media reported extensive injuries, including that the surgeons had to remove his testicles due to the damage. Dispassionately, I poked his shoulder until he came to, groggily. His eyes widened when they saw me. I stared him down, then smiled. "Here's how it's going to be," I said flatly. "You're going to cut your losses as far as I'm concerned. If you ever come after me again, I will snap your neck and leave you paralyzed below the neck. Furthermore, you're going to plead guilty to all charges, at least the ones concerning me, and you're going to go to jail, not Arkham." I let my gaze roam his face, lingering on his swollen mouth where I'd broken most of his teeth. His left hand scrabbled for the sheet, unconsciously drawing it up under his chin. His right hand could do exactly jack shit since I'd tried to break every bone in it and had succeeded with most, plus the three bones in his arm. His other injuries were shrouded by the sheet. "Do you know why I spent so long on your hand?" He shook his head minutely, his eyes never leaving mine. "Because you dared to touch me with it. Let that be a lesson and a warning. I was pretty thorough with the rest of you too, but if you touch me again, I'm going to give your whole body the full hand treatment." I smiled at him coldly. He looked terrified. It was probably wrong of me to take pleasure for terrorizing somebody in his state, but after what he'd put me through... I just didn't care. "Also, just FYI, my insurance company is suing you for the damages your goons inflicted on my car." I grinned at him. "Have a great day!" Then I slipped out before the guards came back. The monitors started to go off.

Three weeks later, the Joker was transferred to the jail and McIver called me in. With him was the DA. And not an assistant. The big cheese himself. He wasted no time in telling me that he'd offered the Joker a deal, and a heaviness settled over me. "What I find incredible is that you managed to inflict so much damage with a broken shoulder," he said coolly. "Are you sure you didn't have some help? Are you shielding someone?"

I tried, I really did, but a small eye roll slipped out. "Mr Edwards, you are obviously uninformed. First of all, I'm classified as an enhanced human, strong and durable. Secondly, my uncle is Bucky Barnes. He's been training me since high school, barring the time I was in college and grad school. I'm his assistant trainer in hand to hand for the Avengers and will take over for him when he steps down in time. This also wasn't the first time I've been victimized by the Joker. So what you see is actually me being held back by my injury. If I hadn't been hampered by my shoulder and had had more time, it would have been a lot worse."

His eyes narrowed. "You've been planning this?"

"No." His attitude irritated me. "Tell me, have you ever been victimized by a man? This man abducted me four times, drugged me, raped me, terrorized me, stalked me, sent me a canister of poison gas, kidnapped and beat my little brother, and intended to brutalize me into submitting to... I don't even know what. Some sort of blow-up doll, a meat puppet he could impregnate. I took the opportunity for a little payback. So unless you've gone through that, stick your judgment where the sun doesn't shine, and also, fuck you." I was infuriated.

He went red, and with an effort, controlled his temper. "The purpose of this meeting is to inform you that a plea bargain has been offered to the individual known as the Joker, real name unknown. In exchange for pleading guilty on multiple charges of abduction, aggravated battery, and conspiracy, the Joker will spend seven years in Belle Reve prison."

I couldn't believe it. "Parole?"

"It is a possibility."

My tongue got tangled on the profanity I wanted to utter. "That's an utter joke," I said bitterly when I could speak. "A slap on the hand. You might as well just have sent him to Arkham." Utter contempt leeched into my voice. He stared back at me, unmoved.

"That was the deal, and it both gets him off the streets and provides you with a measure of justice, in addition to saving my department millions. It's a win." He got up, closed a folder he hadn't even looked at, and left the room. I felt like I was going to strangle on my rage.

McIver gave me a few minutes to calm down. He shook his head. "He's got political ambitions," was all he said about him, then pushed an old evidence bag across the table to me. "The deal includes the crimes he committed during your first two abductions. The rape wasn't one of the charges he pled guilty to, he must have a great lawyer, but with the deal he can't be prosecuted for it any more. Under state law, any recordings made of a rape belong to the victim. You can do what you like with them."

"They're all here?"

"Yes. There were no copies made, and they have been untouched since the initial investigation." I turned the envelope over and looked at the dates written on the evidence tape. He was right.

"I can do whatever I want with them?"

"That's right."

I took off my shoe. It had a nice, fairly substantial two inch heel, comfortable but still stylish. I ripped open the envelope, checking carefully to make sure I got all of the memory cards. There were seven of them, and I smashed them thoroughly with the heel of my shoe. I sighed with a certain amount of relief that nobody would be able to see my rape ever again and slid my shoe back on.

"OK?" McIver asked after a moment.

"Yep."

When I left, having sprinkled some of the tiny plastic and metal particles in every trash can I passed, the DA was holding a press conference in front of the police department. It was a load of self-aggrandizing bullshit about how the Joker had been brought to justice due to the fine work of his office and (oh yeah,) the police. I listened to some of it, sneering. If I could have done another projectile vomiting trick, I would have, but alas, I'd come to the police station before lunch.

A reporter sidled up to me. "Carl Joyner of the New York Post," he said to me. "You're Alex Barnes, aren't you? Do you have any comment about what the DA is saying?"

I was still fuming. This was probably a bad idea. "The Joker is getting a slap on the hand for what he did to me," I said quietly. "A dog turd probably could have negotiated a more just plea agreement. There's no way he's going to serve his full sentence, he can get parole if he doesn't manage a breakout."

"What did he do to you?" he asked.

"Kidnapped me four times, used a paralyzing agent he got from Poison Ivy to immobilize me while he raped me, beat me, used my little brother as a hostage, beat me some more, his goons broke my shoulder, threatened me with serial rape...." I shook my head. "And that's just off the top of my head. And what about Firebug? He worked for Joker, killed a lot of people, including one of my roommates." Tears of sheer rage formed. "And what about all the other crap the Joker's pulled over the years? He was continually sent to Arkham. He's messed up, but he sure knows right from wrong. He just loves to break the law. He should be prosecuted for them now that he's sane enough to sign a plea bargain. This DA is soft on crime. The police did a good job on my case, I'm not faulting them, but seven years is weak. The Joker's lawyer must have eaten the DA for lunch."

The reporter coughed. "The Joker represented himself, apparently. He's got no lawyer listed on the paperwork."

"The Joker, with no law degree, got that sorry sentence from a guy who's in charge of all the lawyers in the city?" I barked a laugh. "Oh, my fucking god." I shook my head and walked off.

A couple hours later, Damian phoned. "Sweet pea, you're such a rabble rouser," he said affectionately.

"What?" I put down the instrument I was using to test some bacteria.

"What you said to the NYT reporter about Edwards. You made some good points. It's all over the news and media websites."

I told him what happened in the interview and he was pissed too. He swore a bit in Arabic. "Well, you just sunk his career, Petal. The mayor just came out and said that of course your case was just the tip of the iceburg and other charges against the Joker are being investigated." He chortled a little. "I bet that the DA is out inside six months. If he doesn't, I'm spearheading a recall movement."

After the controversy subsided somewhat, Damian quietly donated next-gen Kevlar replacement tac gear to the city's SWAT teams and K-9 units. Bruce and Tony donated money to the victims' assistance fund.

In the end, it took just three months before the DA accepted another opportunity. It happened to be at the law firm that Wayne Enterprises used, and Bruce notified the senior partner that he wanted nothing to do with Edwards and he'd be moving his business empire's account to another firm. The next day, the former DA was seeking yet another opportunity.

It was late fall before we actually rescheduled our trip to London, Budapest, and Prague. Damian worried that it was going to be too gloomy, but I love this time of year when the world is preparing to tuck itself in and slumber through winter.

It gave me something to look forward to; after all the excitement a trip sounded good, and Bruce had finally broken down and bought a company jet after his trip to London. "I'm getting too old for all the lines at the airport," he grumbled, and Damian lifted his eyes to the heavens.

"Will you be requiring extra fiber supplements with your meals, Master Bruce?" Alfred inquired archly. "Perhaps some Geritol, if such can still be procured?" I'm telling you, Alfred is a riot.

"I think Dad just wanted to canoodle with Selina on the flight back," Damian said later as we got ready for bed.

Whatever the reason, I was completely impressed with the new jet. It was one of the new Mercedes Benz/Lufthansa jets and had fantastic tech as well as a sleek, luxurious interior. Our trip would be its first with the Wayne Enterprises logo on the tail. Tony had given me three weeks off for our two week trip and an article we were writing about our progress with the algae and bacteria to finish. He was the PhD and his name would go first, but this was the first publication for me and certainly the biggest one yet. I was excited about that, but I put it aside as I went up the stairs and entered the jet. Beautiful. And as soon as we were settled, we took off. The flight attendant served champagne and canapes as soon as we achieved the correct altitude. It was the best flying experience I'd ever had, and we landed at Heathrow without incident or any fuss, sped through customs, and checked into the Conservatory Suite at the 41 Hotel just in time for a nap before dinner.


	31. The travelers

Damian had very little work in London, actually, just three fairly brief meetings scheduled. He spent the rest of the time showing me the city. We hit tourist highlights like the London Eye and the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, the V&A and the British Museum, but he also took me shopping and added to my wardrobe as much as I'd let him. He liked a strapless evening gown, but I was a little self-conscious; the surgery on my shoulder had left two scars, despite the tissue accelerator, and I'd become pretty notorious in New York as a result of the Joker thing and was self-conscious. Damian kissed one of them and told me never to be embarrassed by them, that they were tokens of my strength and skill. After that, I had to get the dress. London was wonderful, an equal mix of sun and rain. I enjoyed the rain, Damian did not.

"You won't melt, sweetheart," I said fondly as we strolled along.

Damian shuddered. "It's not so much the rain as it the clamminess," he said. But he was in a good mood. He'd had a last-minute meeting and come back with a big smile on his face. I'd been out on my own looking for a present for him and I'd found one at Graff. He met me just outside and he looked a little panicked when he saw where I'd come from.

"Relax, honey," I said as I took his arm. "I'm not going to be dragging you into any stores."

"You never do," he said, amused, relaxing. "I drag you." It was getting dark, and we returned to the hotel to get ready for dinner, which we had in the hotel, then retired back to the suite. The ceiling was glass, open to the sky, so we could see the stars or the storms, and we made the most of it, making love and talking as we watched the sky.

The next morning after breakfast, the hotel conveyed us to the airport, where we took off for Prague. A short flight in the luxurious jet was nothing, the trip through customs brief, and soon we were checking into the Hotel Paris, a delightful Gothic Revival/Art Nouveau place. Damian had reserved the Tower suite for us. It was fantastic. The bedroom was on one floor, and above, using a beautiful cast-iron spiral staircase, was a room that had a 360 degree view of Prague, including the castle and Old Town and New Town. The bedroom was very cozy, decorated in a soft red, cream, gold, and black. The bed faced a round window reminiscent of the suite Damian and I had had at the St Regis back in the city, but with an amazing view of the castle.

The weather was chilly but perfect, and on our first day, we went to Old Town and caught the famous Astronomical Clock on the hour, with its display of the twelve apostles, Tyn church, climbed the Hall Tower for a look around, Wenceslas Square, the Powder Tower, and the beautiful Municipal House. We walked Charles Bridge and climbed the towers for the view on each side. We had dinner out, then returned to the hotel for a nightcap up in the lounge. I felt decadent sprawled on the sumptuous sofa in the new silk robe Damian had bought me in London. We cuddled and talked about the day, what we'd liked the best, what we wanted to see the next day. Then I brought out a small box from my pocket and gave it to him. "This is such an amazing trip. I've loved having you mostly to myself, and I wanted you to have a reminder of it." He opened the box to find white gold cufflinks set with square-cut sapphires that sparkled just like his eyes.

"Sweet pea. These are fantastic," he said, watching the stones catch the light. "Thank you. Now I know what I'll be wearing to my business meeting."

"I hope more than cufflinks," I said, amused, then melted into his kiss. He chuckled.

"Yeah, there'll be a suit involved. Don't want to intimidate them too much with my manly physique," he said, and it was my turn to laugh. "So that's what you were doing in Graff. I thought you might have picked something up for yourself."

"I've got enough jewelry that you've given me," I said.

"Did you see anything you like?"

"Tons, it was all sparkly in there and you know how I am." He guffawed. "There was a pretty bracelet that looked like stylized flowers, but nothing I can't live without. And I don't want you going back and buying it. Or getting on the phone or the internet or having somebody buy it. It was pretty, but I prefer the bracelet you gave me for my birthday."

"You can have more than one bracelet," he said reasonably.

"What's the rush?" I asked, and grinned. "I have another birthday next year."

"I'll make a collector out of you yet," he vowed, then we finished our libations and went to bed.

The next day we strolled through Prague Castle, the largest in the world. Since we were there out of tourist season, the crowd was thin. The fortress was an incredible array of buildings, including the marvelous St Vitus Cathedral, fortifications, viewing towers, state apartments, art galleries, a monastery, museums, and Golden Lane. We spent all day there. Our final day there, Damian had a meeting; while he got up early (dressed in a black suit with a blue tie that matched his new cufflinks) I slept in, had brunch downstairs, and in the afternoon walked through Vinohrad, with its wonderful architecture and parks. The next morning we followed the same pattern that we had in London, but this time we ended up in Budapest.

The weather in Budapest was not as cooperative as in Prague; it was cold and snow and rain alternated. I loved it and Damian said he didn't mind much. We checked into the Four Seasons and had a room that looked right down the Chain Bridge, quite a spectacular view. His meeting was that day and took all afternoon; I took the opportunity to go to Vaci Street, a famous pedestrian shopping street that dated from the Middle Ages. I had a chimney cake at Molnar's Kurtoskalacs Bakery before strolling down the street. The facades of the buildings were lovely and in the light, chilly rain, I didn't have much company, which made the greetings from the sales associates in the store that much brighter. I looked for some souvenirs to take home to friends and family and found some really good wine as well. The street is broken up by little squares here and there, charming and fun, often with statues. I went back to the hotel when it started to get too dark and took a hot bath to chase the chill away. When Damian came back, he was cheerful and said the meeting went well, contemplating me in the bathtub. He smiled, stripped, and joined me.

"That's it for business this trip," he said, sighing as he stepped into the steaming water. I opened the drain so that we wouldn't make a mess, adjusting the water level appropriately. "The rest of the time is just for you and me." He picked up my foot and started playing with my toes and we discussed our itinerary for the rest of our stay. We ordered room service for dinner, enjoyed the views while we talked about our afternoons, and then to bed.

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, touring Gellert Hill, Buda Castle, Fisherman's Bastion, Mattias Church, Vajdahunyad Castle, and other spots all over the beautiful city. The afternoon of our fourth day, we went to the famous Szechenyi Thermal Baths in the middle of City Park where we tried out the pools and had a couples aromatherapy massage. Completely relaxed, we took a cab back to the hotel for a nap. That night we had tickets to a classical concert at St Stephen's Basilica, and after the beautiful music, went to a late dinner near Buda Castle. We talked about the concert and I took the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him. He was always handsome with an energy that drew me in, but in a fine suit he could have been a model. I could tell that others in the restaurant felt the same way.

I leaned forward and took his hand. "I want to thank you for bringing me on your business trip, Damian. This is the most amazing trip I've ever taken."

His thumb brushed my palm. "The pleasure's all mine, Petal."

"Is this a new nickname, then?" I asked him, smiling. He grinned back.

"I like it, although it implies fragility, and you're anything but that. Petals are the prettiest part of the flower."

"Does that mean I should call you Stamen then?" I teased, batting my lashes at him. He laughed, a big sound that drew more attention to him.

"Call me whatever you want, Sweet pea, just as long as you call me." The laughter faded and he looked at me intensely. "If I hadn't brought you with me, I'd have just done the meetings and come back home to you. This way I get to see the cities too. I've never spent much time exploring here or in Prague." The sumptuous dinner was served, cutting off the conversation, and afterward, replete, we went back to Fisherman's Bastion, my favorite part of the city.

"I ate too much. I can barely waddle," I said, also wishing that dress coats were warmer. Maybe some sort of thermal lining? The night view of the city lights and the river was stunning. We paused in one of the towers to look at it. We snuggled together and enjoyed it, even though it was getting damned cold. I was just about to suggest we get a cab and go back to the hotel when I felt Damian slide down to the floor. I whipped around, alarmed, to see him on his knees. He reached for my hand.

"Alex, you are the light of my world and I can't imagine having to go through life without you. Despite your irritating tendency to get kidnapped by psychopathic villains I wouldn't trade a minute of our precious time together for anything. I can't give you the world, but I can show it to you. You make me a far better man than I ever dreamed of being, although I admit it's a work in progress. I want to come home at night and trade stories about our days. I want to conceive children with you and have a family together. You make me believe that anything is possible. I love you with all my heart and soul. Will you marry me?"

I stood there, dazed, but managed to nod until my brain caught up. "Of course!"

He sagged a little in relief. "I thought you'd say yes, but there was always a fear that you'd come to your senses and run away." He got up and we kissed. It felt like a promise and a confirmation. Then he ended the kiss. "Fuck." He started to pat his pockets. "There's supposed to be a ring in here for you." I laughed. He didn't, but after several seconds of patting, he found the thing in his inner suit jacket pocket. "Thank god, I thought I blew it," he said, relieved, then waited patiently for me to tug off my glove before he slid it on my finger. The metal was warm, and his hand clutched mine tightly. We kissed again before I even looked at it.

I grinned. It was very familiar; I'd seen a bracelet with the same motif. "This wouldn't be why I ran into you outside of Graff's, would it?" I asked as I admired the beauty of the ring, a beautifully flashing round center diamond set in a stylized flower. The little diamond set into the flower and the band sent out tiny sparks of light.

"It was," He acknowledged. "I was having the ring sized and I worried that you had figured it all out." He hugged me tight and dropped a kiss on my hair.

"No, I was totally oblivious," I said with some chagrin, and he laughed.

"The jeweler said that you liked the motif, when he called the next day to follow up, but I wasn't sure. I had it couriered to the hotel. Is the diamond big enough? It's only a half carat, but I figured you wouldn't want something huge." His voice got smug. "And I'm not the kind of guy who needs to mark his territory, anyway. I'm secure in my manhood and my net worth." I couldn't help laughing at that, and, concerned at the chill, he suggested going back to the hotel. Just as well; the ring was pretty good sized and I couldn't fit my glove over it. Beautiful fat flakes of snow began to fall as we left the Bastion.

Back in the room, we drank champagne to celebrate before we undressed each other and made love. It felt like sealing a promise. Later, we finished the mostly-flat champagne and cuddled. "Do you want to call people to tell them?" he asked.

"I don't even know what time it is there," I said. "Besides, it'll be much more fun to get to see how they react. Did you tell anybody what you were planning?"

"Nope," he said with satisfaction. "It won't be a complete surprise, I think everybody's kind of expecting us to announce our engagement at some point, but having actually done it will be a surprise anyway. Although Dad told me to get off my ass and ask soon. He said he'd like to be a grandpa, so no pressure there." I laughed.

"Well, you know the doctors have been running some tests since my pregnancy scare and the concerns that I had about my mutations," I said. He nodded.

"You said they said you were fertile and shouldn't have trouble conceiving--" he placed his hand low on my abdomen "but they just weren't sure how pregnancy would progress."

"Right. So there's a chance I might not be able to carry a pregnancy to term."

"I figured." He looked at me steadily. "Alex, nobody is guaranteed or entitled to have children. When the time is right, we'll give it our best shot, and if it doesn't work out, we'll move on. If we want kids but can't have them ourselves, we can adopt. Whatever happens, it doesn't change the fact that we'll face it together." He put his arms around me and cuddled me to his chest. "So I'm thinking that maybe we should stop off in Paris on the way home. City of love and all that, take a day or two, see the Eiffel Tower. We can hit the lingerie stores and get started on your trousseau. You know I love to take little wisps of lace and silk off your magnificent body, it's like unwrapping a present." Then I found myself on my back, Damian easing between my legs, then inside me. "I'm becoming increasingly taken by the idea of getting married over here. You've said yes. You're mine and I belong to you. Why wait? Let's elope." I moaned as he did some very excellent things to my body, then focused.

"Um, because everybody will want to see us get married. My mom will be crushed if she misses out on my wedding." He stilled, then sighed.

"Oh. I guess you're right." He sounded disappointed and I smiled. "Well, I guess I'd hate to miss out on the sight of you in a white dress walking toward me. Yeah, I need as many witnesses I can get to attest to my extraordinary fortune."

After, he pulled me on top of him and stroked my back gently. "Ok, so is Paris a go or no? I was also thinking, if your grandma can be trusted to keep quiet, we could stop by her place on the way home so you can tell her yourself. Also, there were earrings that match your ring. Would you like them? How soon do you think we can plan a wedding? Where would you like to go on our honeymoon? Personally, I'm thinking of a private island where I can make love to you on the beach whenever we want, but on the other hand you sunburn so easily that maybe that's out. And the sand might be a problem. Do you want to take the Orient Express? I remember once when we were in high school you'd just read the Agatha Christie mystery and wanted to take it from London to Istanbul. Do you want a big wedding or a small one? I don't think we'll be able to get away with a small wedding, so I hope you're ok with a big one. Where do you want to have it? We could have it at the house, but it might not be big enough. What about the St Regis? They have plenty of room, then we could maybe get our old suite for the night before embarking on our big adventure." I laughed and put my hand over his mouth before he could go on.

"You've been so amazing that if you want to stop in Paris I'm ready to have some fun. Maybe we could arrange for a photographer and get a picture we could use for our engagement announcement? Also, I would love to see my grandma and introduce you to her. You're so sweet and thoughtful. No earrings. Let's not rush getting married because I'm really liking being engaged to you and would like to enjoy that for awhile longer. I can't believe you remembered the Orient Express. I would love that, but it's negotiable, it's your honeymoon too and you should enjoy it. Big wedding is ok if we can't avoid it. I like the idea of the St Regis. It's where we ran into each other again, starting our adult lives, the beginning of all this." He removed my hand from his mouth and gave me a nice long kiss.

"The engagement photo is a great idea, but let's do it here. I'm sure the concierge knows a good photographer and we can go back to the Bastion. Maybe we stick around here another day and do it at twilight? That would be gorgeous. Then Paris for a day--the tower and the lingerie, then to England and your grandma, then home. Are you sure about the earrings? We'll be right there, we can just pick them up on the way. I think a romantic train journey across Europe would be perfect for our honeymoon. The St. Regis it is, then. I love that you like being engaged to me, but that also makes me kind of nervous and I would like to make you legally mine before you come to your senses, Petal."

"I love the idea of going to the Bastion, you're so clever. Then Paris and England and home, maybe get the announcements made and hand deliver them? No earrings. The St. Regis, Orient Express, and you also have to come up with a prenup before I'll marry you, so get cracking, Stamen."

He roared with laughter. "I can't believe you're going to insist on some ridiculous prenup," he said, wiping his eyes after he was reduced to chuckling.

"I am. I can't imagine circumstances that would make me want to divorce you, but if the unthinkable happens, you're going to be plenty grateful. But just get it done, we sign, stick it in a drawer, and we forget about it for the rest of our lives," I said. He rolled me off him carefully and got up.

"Where are you going?"

"Just a sec, then maybe you can show Robin how happy you are to have him at your beck and call."

I chortled. "I still can't believe you named your penis Robin."

"Someday I'll be Batman, so I'll actually be Batman and Robin, but only you'll know that." He smirked at me, winking one of his beautiful blue eyes, and strolled to the phone. After a remarkably short conversation, the concierge said that there shouldn't be any problem lining up a photographer and they extended our stay for an extra day.

Eventually, we slept.

The next day, we had a long and leisurely morning in bed, then we spent some time arranging things to accommodate our new plans, then we showered and went for a late lunch before shopping for new gloves to go over my new ring, and Damian found me a warmer winter coat. It was a rich purple cashmere with a creamy white satin thermal lining (yay!), double breasted with a cinched in waist and full skirt that came to just above my ankles. It was beautiful and fun, but we had to race to meet the photographer. The photographer the concierge had found was very good and shortly produced some amazingly romantic images of us at various places in the Bastion. It didn't take long, and he promised to email the digital images and FedEx prints of our favorites. We ate dinner in the hotel, spent the night in much the same manner as we had the previous night, then got up early the next morning and headed to Paris.


	32. The announcement

Paris was cold and drizzly, but I got to see the Tower and survey the city. We had a bracing lunch at one of the restaurants, then Damian took me to his real purpose for visiting: lingerie. He lost his head, and it's good that he's a rich man, is all I've got to say, and I was grateful we weren't flying commercial because of the extra baggage fee we'd have incurred. Then a brief flight to England, where we spent the night in a hotel and turned up on my grandma's doorstep in the morning. She was surprised to see me, but thrilled at my news and gave Damian a more thorough grilling than he'd gotten from any of my other relatives. The interesting thing was that he didn't exert himself to charm; his charm is practically a lethal weapon when he turns it on, and I appreciated that he was letting Grandma meet his real self. Finally she pronounced that I had found a good man and we had a late lunch, showing her the pictures the photographer had taken the day after our engagement.

"I wanted to say that I'll take care of your travel to New York any time you'd like to visit," Damian said, patting his mouth with the napkin. "Any time. You'll probably want to come over when Alex goes dress shopping, and for the wedding itself, or just to visit. We have a corporate jet that can fly you, or if that's not available, we can get you first class on a commercial flight."

"You don't have to do that," Grandma said, flustered.

"I do," he said, and finally the charm offensive came out with his smile. "You're important to Alex, which means you're important to me. You'll be my grandmother-in-law, which means that I get to arrange these things."

"No, I'll be your grandma too," she said, patting his hand.

He teared up a bit and unselfconsciously patted his eyes with the napkin. "I've never had a grandma. This is going to be awesome."

After lunch, I gave her some souvenirs that I'd picked up. We had to go, but I'd be seeing her soon. She and Damian exchanged telephone numbers, and finally we were going home. We mostly slept on the way home and were met by Alfred and the Rolls. I was glad to see him after the trip, and he got us home with a minimum of fuss although there was a slightly raised eyebrow at our expanded baggage.

We were home just in time for a pre-dinner cocktail. We distributed some souvenirs, and I think that Bruce and Alfred were both pleased to have been remembered. Then, as everybody settled in, Damian grinned at his dad, succinctly recapped the business part of the trip, and concluded nonchalantly, "And Alex agreed to marry me."

Bruce choked on his cocktail and Alfred actually dropped the shaker. I bounced up and showed them my ring.

"My word," Alfred murmured. "Congratulations, Master Damian, and best wishes to you, Miss Alex."

Bruce gave me a big hug, complete with a little rocking. It was a little unnerving; he's pretty hands-off normally. "Welcome to the family, Alex," he muttered, then pulled Damian into a three-way hug. Then Damian pulled in Alfred, and it was a great moment. Then we heard the door.

"Wow, is there a tragedy here or something?" Dick's voice was concerned. We disentangled, but then Damian put his arms around me and cuddled me to him.

"For Alex, maybe," I snorted "but no. Alex and I just announced our engagement."

"Congratulations!" Barbara bounded over to me and forced Damian to relinquish me for a hug and an inspection of the ring. "Oh, that's gorgeous, Alex! But kind of a small diamond, Damian."

"I was pushing it with a half-caret, Babs. So I went with quality over quantity. Finest cut, D color, flawless at 10x magnification."

"Any bigger would be embarrassing," I said, looking at it with pleasure. "As it is, it's not going to fit under my gloves at work, it'll just punch through the nitrile. I'll have to get a chain to wear it on."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, Sweet pea, I got you one at Graff. I need to find it for you," Damian told me, slightly muffled by Dick's hug. Then Damian was abruptly released and I got a hug.

"I was kind of worried that Damian was dragging his feet and you'd run off in an attack of good sense," he joked with a final squeeze.

"Everybody keeps acting like it's me who'd take off. I worried that Damian would think I was too much trouble, overall," I said, smiling.

"I think you took care of the trouble," Damian said, kissing my hand. "But it's true I've come closer to heart failure several times more than I'd like since we met." We grinned at each other, and as we sat down to dinner, cocktails forgotten, we told the story. "I thought he'd been shot or something," I said, shaking my head. "One moment he was standing, then next he was on the ground. I couldn't see a threat and all I could think was that my shoes were all wrong for a fight." The table burst out laughing.

"Yeah, she's the right woman for you," Dick said, chortling. Then Damian took out his phone and pulled up the pictures we'd had taken at the Bastion. Everybody loved them and Dick said he wanted to go there now too. I ran up after dinner and got the souvenirs we'd gotten for them too, but after some post-dinner conversation, jet lag and fatigue from all the excitement hit hard and we went to bed.

The next morning, Bruce was all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and peppered us with questions over breakfast. We answered with what sketchy plans we had, and he approved the prenup. Damian had been counting on his dad to see things his way and sulked. "Look, son, you know that our night job isn't easy, and that there are high costs. And while I think that Alex knows and accepts this, there is always the possibility that something will happen that is too much to handle. She won't ask you to give it up, and you won't be able to, which limits the options considerably. So be grateful that she loves you enough to protect you, and get the valuation of your individual wealth done, decide on your terms with the lawyers, I'll expect that Alex's lawyers will have intelligent ideas of their own, decide on your joint terms, and get it signed. Throw it in a safe and forget it. But you can also use it as a form of planning for the future, spelling out what you intend for your future children if you're so blessed." That last, cannily added, was what turned the tide, and Damian jerked a nod. Then Bruce diverted the conversation into planning for an engagement party. Alfred brought in an idea board with some color choices and a potential guest list. Damian and I sat, stupefied, as Bruce and Alfred chattered on about venues and flowers and food.

"Of course, I'm sure that Alex's parents will have some ideas too," Bruce said pensively. "Go on now and tell them so that I can give them a call and get this thing done."

Still stunned, it wasn't until we were on the road that we spoke. "I can't believe it," my fiance said finally.

"We need to rein them in or they'll take complete control of the wedding," I cautioned, and Damian nodded.

"If my dad starts talking about wedding favors, I might just freak out." I had a flash of Batman wrapping Jordan almonds in tulle and my eyes crossed.

The drive to my parents was otherwise uneventful and we were lucky to find them both at the coffeehouse. After surprised and pleased greetings from the parents, we fielded questions about the trip and I gave them some things I'd picked up for them. Then, just when they were relaxed and unsuspecting, I hit them with the news. My mom shrieked and hugged me and my dad cried. He got it down to snuffles fairly quickly, and gave first Damian, then me hugs and welcomed Damian into the family. My mom patted Damian's hand, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and got up to bring celebratory cupcakes over. It really meant a lot to her that we'd stopped to tell grandma. We showed the photos, which they cooed over. When she asked about the wedding plans, Damian shook his head and squeezed her hand. "We need help. My dad and Alfred are planning an engagement party and I don't know how to rein him in."

My dad laughed. "How bad can it be?" Damian and I exchanged dark looks. "Well, I'll give him a call when I get back to the shop." I relaxed. My dad is a rock.

By the time we got back to the city, my dad had gone over to the dark side and wanted us to select our favorite photo from Budapest. They were thinking about using peach and a light green for the party. Damian pulled up the handbrake and shook his head. When he came around to open my door, I said to him, "You were right. We should have eloped."

We found Bucky and Emma in his office and followed procedure: gifts first, then the news. Emma was excited and immediately called my mom. Bucky was more quietly pleased and gave me one of his Flannel Special hugs, followed by a hug for Damian, and we showed the pictures. Uncle Bucky chose one and asked for a print for his desk. Then Tony came in, saving me a stop, heard the news, and congratulated us over cookies. He laughed over his souvenir, a bobble head in traditional Hungarian dress, and after more conversation, we went home. I took a chance and tried to Skype J; luck was with me and he accepted. He seemed really pleased with the news and Damian emailed him the pictures when he asked. As we spoke, both Damian and I got texts from Bruce, telling us to reserve the third Saturday in December for the engagement party, so that J could be there too. J looked bemused.

"But isn't that awfully close to Christmas? I appreciate him thinking of me, but that might not be good timing."

"Not many people will turn down an invitation from Bruce Wayne," Damian said factually. Then he cheered up. "But it also means that people won't be inclined to linger too long." We gave each other fist bumps and J laughed.

We took the rest of the afternoon off to snuggle together with the pets (the cats hadn't forgiven us for leaving but were willing to suspend hostilities) and relax after all the notification, but Damian did take a moment to call one of his lawyers and instruct that they should start drafting a prenup.

"I don't like this, Sweet pea," he said, nuzzling my hair. "What's mine is yours."

"It's not about us being married, it's about what should happen if something horrible happens. Everybody keeps acting like I'm the one who'd run away, but what if I did something unforgivable? You need to protect yourself, my darling."

"I can't imagine what you could do that would be unforgivable," he said in a puzzled tone.

"Well, I don't know either, but there's a dark place inside me, Damian. You'll never know just how close I was to splattering the Joker's brains all over the concrete. Or snapping his neck. Or stabbing him with his own knife. And I wouldn't even have to kill to make a mess out of your life. I'm sure there are ways that I could make you wish you'd never met me."

"Petal, I wouldn't have lost sleep if you had killed that fucker. I would have lost sleep worrying about how you were coping with it," he said, nuzzling me. "But I can see that this matters a lot to you, so we'll go ahead, get it done, and forget about it." He kissed me. "Mmm. We're getting married. I can't wait to see you in a dress you choose just for us. We need to set a date soon." More kisses. "We need to check the train schedule. How long do you think it would take to plan this shindig?"

I nipped his luscious lower lip. "Too long. We should have eloped." I slid my hand down his chest.

"Ahem." We started violently. Alfred was standing in the door with a tray holding a coffeepot and teapot. "I apologize for startling you, Miss Alex, Master Damian. I thought you might like refreshment after delivering the news." He came forward and placed the tray on the table, pouring efficiently, doctoring my coffee the way I liked.

"Ooh, cookies!" I said, and Alfred smiled, handed us our cups, and faded away discreetly.

"We should get Dad and Alfred to plan the wedding," Damian said. "They'd be so efficient we could get it done in no time."

"If they ever get bored of running an empire and butlering for the empire, they could be the world's most effective wedding planners," I said, attacking the cookie plate. I thought I heard a faint chuckle. Damian was looking at his phone.

"Ok, Sweet pea, they only go to Istanbul once a year, at the end of August, so we need to plan accordingly. It goes from Paris to Istanbul, with stops in Budapest and Bucharest." I smiled brightly. "I thought you might like that," he said fondly. "But it's only six days, so we'll have to figure out some place to go besides that." He shuffled around the website. "Hey, we'll have to get a cabin suite, with that we get a choice of bed configurations." He grinned at me wickedly. "I'm going to go ahead and make the reservations. He tapped at the phone madly for a couple of minutes, then held it aloft in triumph. "Success!" Then we cuddled up again to see more details about the itinerary and the train.

"Wow," I breathed. "I can hardly believe it. Thank you, Damian!" I put my arms around him and kissed him enthusiastically. That kiss evolved into several more and I was enjoying myself immensely when Bruce came in.

"Canoodle later, kids, you've got a wedding to plan," he said briskly, dropping his briefcase on the desk before fishing out a couple of binders. "I went on Pinterest for some ideas," he continued, handing us each a binder. A big, thick binder. Inside were printouts of checklists and timelines for the bride and groom. I stared at it, stunned again. "When do you want your wedding?"

"Ah...end of August," Damian said faintly.

"Are you sure? It doesn't give much time for planning," his dad fretted. "Plus it will be hot and sticky. Now, I called the St. Regis today...." Bruce rattled on. He'd done a lot more wedding planning than we had. When we confessed that all we'd done was come up with a time frame and most of the honeymoon, Bruce shook his head. "You'll have to do better than that, kids. Lots to do!" He'd sent the engagement announcement to the papers and ordered the invitations for the engagement party. "Your father, Alex, so helpful," he commented. And he went on. I was dazed by all the directives. It was the first time I'd seen Bruce Wayne in full force and it was intimidating. I found myself writing down his instructions for what he wanted us to accomplish in the next few days. Damian had to go back to work the next day, so I'd start researching. Then I had an idea. Aslyn was getting married in June. I could probably share information with her and cut down on the workload.

We went to lunch the next day. She shrieked to see my ring and we did the hoppy-huggy-squealing thing before being seated. I asked how she was doing on her wedding and she asked me to go dress shopping with her in two weeks. "You can also get some ideas for your dress," she said, beaming. This was one of the reasons I loved my friend; a lot of women wouldn't want to share their time in the spotlight, but she was just happy for me.

"Bruce has turned into... I don't even know what. Major General Wedding Planner? Commander in Chief? Worse yet, he's drawn my dad into his influence. He gave us binders last night," and I proceeded to tell her about the whole thing. She roared with laughter, then wanted to hear about my trip and the proposal, and I showed her the pictures, and just remembered to give her her gift, a pretty, dainty necklace I'd found in Prague.

At the end of the meal, we set up a date for drinks with our respective fiances and an afternoon over the weekend to chat and compare notes and she promised to send me some information about bakeries and florists. Then I scuttled home. One of my tasks was to arrange a day to find a wedding dress. I shook my head. Bruce was being optimistic there.

When he and Damian got home that night, Bruce handed me a thick stack of bridal magazines before I had time to do anything besides kiss Damian hello. My fiance (!) looked a little frazzled. "We got the St. Regis for the weekend before our reservations for the train," he told me, "so we've got a little space to fill in for the honeymoon. They'll also do the catering and will work on menus for us, so that's something to tick off the list." He shot a look of triumph at his father, who beamed paternally. 

"If you work hard now, you'll be less stressed later," he commented.

After dinner, Damian and I slunk off upstairs. We took our binders so it would look like we were doing work, but I don't think we fooled anyone. But Damian had a surprise for me; somehow he'd snuck off to a paint store during the day and come home with paint chips so we could play around and maybe decide on our wedding colors. We ended up torn between sage, light gold, and a creamy white and merlot red, peach, and sage. The first was more elegant, the second more lively. After some debate and a little canoodling, we went with the second. We trooped downstairs to report our progress, and Bruce was delighted, muttering about making changes to the green of the engagement parties. We ghosted upstairs before we got more homework. I was due back at work the next day and the prospect seldom seemed so inviting.


	33. My options

I was glad to get back to work, and not just because it was a relief to escape my taskmasters. While the past few weeks had been some of the best of my life, I was ready to get back to some discipline, my daily routine, and focused intellectual effort. I hadn't worked out much, and Bucky didn't reprove me, but he didn't have to. I worked harder to compensate for the inactivity. Today was a day I worked with Sif, who was thrilled at my news and we talked as we sparred. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her son Magni watching us and mimicking some of our movements. I nodded toward him and feinted in such a way to put him in her line of sight. She smiled. We stopped and she beckoned him over.

"Would you like to do what Mama is doing?" she asked him, smoothing his hair. He nodded and looked eager. I grinned at him and showed him the first block Bucky had taught me. We worked until his concentration ran out, then he went back to sit down and I resumed work with Sif. At the end of her session, I offered to add Magni in to her lesson; he was still pretty young and didn't have a huge attention span so wouldn't take a lot of time out of Sif's time. "Hogun will be returning to Earth next month," she mentioned as they were ready to go. "He would like to spar with you if you have time."

I loved fighting Hogun with the two swords, and he was the only person I knew who fought like that. "I'll make time if I have to," I said enthusiastically. "Oh, wait a minute." I went tot he desk and found an envelope. "My future father-in-law is having an engagement party for us next month. I don't know what your plans are like, but I'd love for you to come if you can."

"Thank you, Alex," she said as she opened the envelope. "I have not been to many Midgardian celebrations. I will check the schedule and let you know."

After training was done for the day, Bucky had me go up and practice in the driving simulator just to keep sharp, then it was up to the lab. Finally. I felt like I was home, and acquainted myself with the data that had been collected while I was gone. Tony came in with cookies. Darn. I'd forgotten to restock the Cookie Star. He generously shared half of his haul and in return I gave him the drive that had my edits and additions to our article. We sat back in our chairs, discussed the work and general lab business, ate the cookies. Great to be back. I'd also had a couple of ideas while on vacation, and came up with some exciting new approaches. Or what I hoped would be exciting new approaches, anyway. After a couple hours, he left to work in his own lab and Madison came in. She'd been acting like she thought I blamed her for Lewis, which was ridiculous. After she'd sat down at her desk and checked email, I brought over a few things I'd found for her on the trip and her face brightened. She asked about the cities I'd visited and loved my ring.

"I've been thinking of doing a gap year, working for most of it, then backpacking across Europe before college," she said. "I wasn't really planning on going to eastern Europe but now I really want to."

"That sounds like fun," I said. "We can check with Tony about maybe increasing your hours here, or if there's not enough work in the lab, finding another place in the tower that could use the help." I brought up the matter to Tony the next day, and he agreed. "Nice to be able putting off training somebody new for awhile. Speaking of that, I think it's time to get another scientist in here with us, get you more management experience, another perspective."

I wanted to object; I enjoyed our collaboration and didn't want anything to intrude on it. He was right that a fresh perspective could be valuable, though, and ultimately this was a business that needed to generate a product. "Why do I need management experience, though, Tony?" I asked with a slight narrowing of my eyes.

"I wasn't going to bring this up yet,' he said, playing with a desk toy rather than looking at me. "But I won't be around forever, and there's the company to consider. What I want to do is groom you to head the labs. R & D, all of it. Pete is learning the business side and you'll need to know more of that in order to provide the most effective guidance, but basically... that's it. I want to know that my company is in good hands. I started to think about that after Natasha."

"Wow," I said breathlessly. It was both appealing, appalling, and terrifying. "Ultimately, I'll probably have to give up lab work, then."

He nodded. "You'll still be able to do some, like I do here, just not as much. And it'll have to be balanced with your work as trainer for the Avengers until you get too old to do that too." I smiled a little at his baiting. "I don't want an answer now, take your time and think about it. The implementation is a ways off, definitely after we start having successes here."

When I got home I was still a little staggered. "The thing to consider is if you want that kind of challenge," my better half said, carefully hanging up his suit. We were hanging out in the closet. I love that place. "I'll tell you, that kind of responsibility is terrifying until you get used to it, then it's exhilarating and kind of addictive. It's a lot of responsibility but also an incredible opportunity to make your mark in a larger context. Your work with the bacteria I don't really understand but it has a great many practical uses in lighting. This new job would allow you to impact other fields too."

Finally I voiced my biggest fear. "But what if I'm not competent, in the end? It's a big responsibility, guiding that big a department into the future. An enormous trust. You know that."

He stopped, dressed only in his boxers, and smiled at me. "You're marrying me. You can handle anything. And you know that you can delegate, don't you? It's not like you'll be personally responsible for each drop of acid and every scientist. Use your organizational chart to alleviate the burden. You might want to take some management classes, Petal. After the wedding and all. If you want to do it."

"I kind of feel like I have to. Tony hand-selected me."

He shook his head. "That's the wrong reason to do something. I know you think highly of him and you're probably one of the few people he trusts, but if you don't want to do it, if you'd really rather stay in the lab, tell him that." Regrettably, he pulled on a t-shirt and stepped into a pair of jeans. "If you do it, do it because you want the challenge." He pulled me up and into a full-contact hug. "And make sure that you really can work with Parker. You'll be miserable if you're always butting heads. And make Stark define how you could be fired and under what circumstances, so that you'll have protection if things go badly between you and Parker." He gave me more excellent advice, ending with the suggestion to keep the offer to myself unless I wanted advice.

"Dad means well, but you know how he is with this wedding? He'll be even more intensive providing you information and alternatives." I shuddered and he laughed. "You might want to wait until you make up your mind, if you want to accept it. Then he'll still go to town with the advice and information, but then you'll be in a position to use it better. He's a one-man MBA."

I hemmed and hawed over it for a few days. Finally, when Tony strolled into the lab on a day when Madison didn't work, I offered him a fresh cookie from the Cookie Star (Alfred had devised the most awesome oatmeal-peanut butter cookies drizzled in chocolate) and waited until he was chewing pleasantly. "I've thought about it and I've decided that I'll take you up on your offer," I said. I grinned as he sat upright, his words muffled by the cookie.

"Great," he said, swallowing fast. "You're getting married when?"

"Late August."

"So we'll start looking around for a support scientist now and you can train him or her, get married, honeymoon, I'll give you a month off, then when you get back you'll start learning the ropes." I had a few conditions, mostly about needing to have my rights and responsibilities clearly defined, especially regarding Peter's authority.

"I get that you two just don't click, and I'm sorry about it, but I think that you can still work effectively together. I'll work with you both and hopefully we'll get everything running smoothly before I kick off."

I didn't like the reminder that one day I'd come into work and he wouldn't be there. "Take your time with that," I advised, and he laughed.

"Not planning on it anytime soon," he said, and grabbed a couple more cookies. Usually he had the best dietary habits of anybody I knew, but he was helpless to resist a quality cookie. When I was mad at him, I stocked the Cookie Star with Oreos. I liked them just fine, but Tony was spoiled. He disliked packaged cookies so much that I sometimes wondered that if I waved a package of Oreos in his face he'd act like a vampire confronted with a cross. We spent an hour hammering out an agreement, then got down to the science, puttering happily around the lab. We had a strain of algae that looked very promising, and we thought to work on better electron capture for the chemoluminescent bacteria. It was a very productive day.

At home, I'd been hoping that the wedding planning would be curtailed since it was almost Thanksgiving, but no. There was a timetable to keep and Bruce had updated our slowly filling binders with a more detailed checklist. It was a little aggravating, but people paid a lot of money to wedding planners to do just this. He was on me about my dress, but here I put my foot down. I couldn't begin looking til after Aslyn found hers, but we were going the week after Thanksgiving. And we weren't meeting with the hotel people until January, so other decisions related to that, including table decor and flowers, couldn't be made until then. Bruce understood, but it really chapped him that the trains weren't running on his schedule.

I threw him a bone. "I thought I'd start looking for my dress somewhere around Christmas, then my grandma could come over for Christmas, the engagement party, and dress shopping."

That diverted him and he started to make plans for Christmas, planning to invite my parents and J too, and of course Dick and Barbara, but they were local, and... We left him to it and on our way out of the library, Alfred offered me an extremely discreet fist bump.

At work, Tony had his lawyers draw up a formal agreement detailing my transition. It would be slow and gradual, and all the steps were laid out clearly. I took it to the Wayne family lawyers who reviewed it for me, suggested a few modifications to which Tony agreed, and it felt like a pretty momentous moment when I signed. He popped a bottle of champagne to celebrate, which we drank in the lab at our desk.

Bruce was thrilled when I told him about my promotion, but it just about shorted out his brain. "I know you don't have much of a background in management, Alex," he said immediately. "I'd be happy to help you out there..but perhaps after Christmas. There's a lot going on with work and the wedding and Christmas."

"I don't want to impose," I started to say.

"It's not an imposition," he assured me. "It's just that my head can only hold so much at one time. And after the engagement party and Christmas, I'll have freed up some space and have had a chance to think about what kind of information you'll need. "

"That's just fine, Bruce. It's not going to happen overnight. I really appreciate it."

"It's a pleasure, Alex. I'm glad to be able to contribute to your success." We started talking about Christmas, and Damian grinned at me and squeezed my hand.

"Told you," he murmured, nuzzling my hair. 

We tuned right back in when Alfred spoke. "I wonder, Master Bruce, if I might invite a guest for Christmas as well?"

"Of course, Alfred, you don't need to ask, you know that," Bruce said. "Who are you inviting?"

"My niece, actually."

"I didn't know you had a niece, Alfred," I said, feeling stricken. I'd never asked. Alfred was very private, but that didn't excuse me.

"Two, Miss Alex. I had a younger brother. We were estranged when he died, a little over sixteen years ago." Whew. I hadn't been with Damian then, I didn't miss something that big. "But his widow contacted me and I went to the funeral and found out that he'd had two daughters. Since then I've kept in contact with them, provided some assistance. They were living near the poverty line." He paused and nobody interrupted. "They live in Japan, in Kyoto. The older girl is getting ready to attend university."

"What does she want to study?" Bruce asked.

"Hospitality, sir." He drew a deep breath. "It is my desire to get to know her better, see if she might be a suitable candidate to take over as butler here after me." For some reason, I was shocked. I couldn't imagine the manor without Alfred. Damian's hand clenched around mind and I knew he felt the same.

"Of course you're welcome to have your family here, Alfred," Bruce said a moment. "We'll enjoy meeting her." Nobody wanted to talk about a future without Alfred, it seemed.

"Thank you, Master Bruce," he said, and after a few hiccups, we started talking about the menu for Christmas dinner.


	34. The party

I helped Alfred a little in the kitchen preparing for Thanksgiving, mostly prep work. There were a lot of vegetables to peel. "I'm sorry I never asked about your family, Alfred," I said, picking up another potato.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Miss Alex," he said, pulling out a tray of croutons from the oven. "I rarely talk about my nieces because I regret the circumstances of my estrangement from my brother. But they are nice girls and I hope to assist them building their futures." He efficiently tipped a tray of cooled croutons into the food processor and pulsed until they became crumbs, destined for the stuffing. "I speak with them often, but I can't say that I know them well. I am hoping that perhaps the eldest, Nora, will wish to attend college in this area. I could get to know her better, evaluate her suitability for the position."

"Are you sick, Alfred?"

He smiled at me. "No, Miss Alex, I am in excellent health. But one must keep an eye on the future. Eventually, I will need a replacement, and that person must be chosen carefully as the Waynes require more than someone to simply answer the door and prepare the meals. My niece is young, but she has promise. And she may choose otherwise. But I would first like to consider family."

"How much younger is the younger girl?" I asked, agreeing with him.

"Two years younger than her sister. She is interested in attending flight school, becoming a pilot."

"Bruce has that private jet," I said thoughtfully, and he smiled.

"Exactly so, Miss Alex."

Mom, Dad, and J came for Thanksgiving, and together with Dick and Barbara, it was the largest table we'd had since I came to live at the mansion. The food was excellent as always and the conversation was lively. J stayed a few more days and I was sorry when he went back to school. But the next week I made room in my schedule to go dress shopping with Aslyn, her mom, sister, and grandma, and a few other friends who could take the day off, including Karen. It was a lot more fun than I'd expected. There was something kind of bonding about helping Aslyn choose a dress to mark this monumental next step in her life. And when we had lunch next, she asked me to be a bridesmaid. Her maid of honor would be her sister, and I'd be joining Rill, Karen, and a couple of her newer friends. The colors were light green, robin's egg blue, and gold, which was nice; I looked good in green and blue.

It started to get cold and dreary right after that, with snow starting to accumulate as holiday parties started. Damian and I went to our share, including his company party and mine, and he came with me to meet the plane when it brought my grandma over for the holidays. She was a little surprised by the house and the butler, but it took about three seconds for her to strike up a firm friendship with Alfred and she liked Bruce. Whew. Mom and Dad came a couple days early for my engagement party and J made it up the day of, just after finals. After J arrived, Damian and I went upstairs to get ready. I chose a silver and green brocade dress that had a full tea-length skirt, long sleeves, and a simple V neck. It made me feel pretty. I didn't have a necklace to match, but the dress was special enough without one, and I wore my pearl earrings. The double strand of pearls was just too much with the dress. "I'll have to think about what kind of necklace to get you next," Damian said, touching the base of my throat gently. "Maybe a diamond pendant."

"You keep this up and I'll have a collection to rival Elizabeth Taylor's," I said lightly, but this backfired as it seemed to have given him ideas. Shit. We went down before I could do more damage and joined the family in the library. Bucky and Emma had arrived while we were upstairs.

Alfred served Champagne and Bruce stood, coming over to stand by his son and me. "I'd like to thank you all for being here, not just for the engagement party, but also for Christmas. I'm enjoying getting to know you all better and I'm very pleased that my son is marrying into such a wonderful family. I think that Alex and Damian are an excellent match; they complement each other beautifully and they give each other strength, support, and joy in abundance. I couldn't ask for a better daughter-in-law." He picked up a case from the desk and handed it to me. "I'd like to mark this occasion by giving Alex something significant from my family. It was my mother's most cherished possession, after my father, and I look forward to seeing another exceptional woman wearing it." I opened the case and saw a beautiful single strand of pearls, with deep luster and orient, the white softly washed with pink. He took it out of the case and fastened it around my neck.

"Thank you, Bruce, they're exquisite," I said, touching the smooth spheres. He gave me a brief hug and patted his son's shoulder.

"Bruce mentioned that he was going to give that to Alex," my grandma said, standing up and coming over to us. "So I thought it would be appropriate to give Damian a gift from Alex's family as well." She handed him a box. Inside was a silver tank watch with a black leather band; it looked vintage. I peered at it closer, it was a Rolex. "My uncle won that in a card game from a Yank officer shortly before Operation Overlord was launched. It was apparently quite a game."

"Wow," Damian said. He took it out of the box and I put it on for him. "This is lovely."

"Rolex used to make them for everyday wear, so it's not very high end," she warned, but he just smiled.

"I love it. The styling is so Art Deco, which is my favorite. It means more because it's an heirloom from your family," he said, kissing her cheek.

"I'd like to propose a toast," my dad said. "To Alex and Damian, may they have a lifetime of happiness together. A successful marriage takes work and compassion as well as joy, and these qualities are most needed when they're hardest to give. I wish for you both every good thing life has to offer." I got a little misty at that. Then the guests began to arrive, my friends and Damian's as well as some of Mom and Dad's and Bruce's, Selina, Tony, Mindy and Sam, of course. It was a lovely party with Champagne and delicious petits fours. As predicted, people came, they congratulated us and had a nice time, and they left after a decent amount of time to do their own Christmas preparations. It was genius.

When Damian and I were back up in our room, changing afterward, I said to him, "I know you're not wild about me having these pearls."

"I wasn't," he said with a sigh. "But Dad gave them to you because his mom loved wearing them. They have a different meaning for him than me. And they are beautiful, and beautiful on you," he conceded, touching them. "It saves me the trouble of buying a single strand for you, so I can move on to other jewels," he said, brightening. I shook my head. "It made Dad happy that you liked them." He snorted cynically. "It's not like you're going to be getting anything nice from my mother." He frowned. "If you do get any strange packages or if she shows up and tries to give you anything, don't take it. Call me or Dad immediately."

"She's more likely to try to stab me in a dark corner," I said. "But I will call immediately if I see her." I hung up my dress and turned to see him stroking his new watch. "Do you really like it?"

"I do," he said, looking at it. "But won't your brother be mad she gave it to me?"

"Naw; he hates having things on his wrist and he'd never remember to wind it." I laughed. "She asked me if you'd like it; she wanted something from our family to welcome you."

"I'm glad she did," Damian said softly. "It really makes me feel like I'm joining your family too."

"Well, you are," I pointed out, wrapping my arms around him and melting into him. "Grandma thinks very highly of you, my folks love you, J likes you, you get along well with Bucky and Emma. They all like your dad, too, and who doesn't love Alfred? He's a second dad to you." He held me close and rested his cheek on the top of my head.

"I really hit the jackpot with you," he murmured. We stood like that for awhile until I got chilly--he was still fully clothed--then finished changing. I kept the pearls on even though they were too splendid for the slacks and blouse. I think Bruce was pleased that I liked them so much.

A couple days after the party, Alfred's niece arrived. She was petite, a few inches shorter than me, pretty, not very talkative but interested in everything and nice. I felt that she was a little shy, but mostly that she was watching the dynamics in the group. I did the same thing, so I felt some kinship with her.

Christmas was wonderful--Damian gave me an antique Faberge pendant, the gold and platinum setting around the hexagonal aquamarine had little arrows encircling the stone. "Cupid's arrows," he murmured in my ear.

"You spend way too much on jewelry," I told him, then smiled. "I love it, though." How could I not? He just smiled and shrugged.

"You're going to be my wife. I like to see you in things that are almost as beautiful as you are." Kinda hard to argue with that. And the pendant was lovely. I brightened. I could wear it to the New Years Eve party we were going to. I had a slinky black dress that it would look stunning with.

The rest of the day was lovely and I was thrilled to spend it with my family. After the extraordinary dinner--Alfred had outdone himself--and a suitable amount of lazy socializing after, Damian and I went upstairs. He lit the fire in the fireplace and we settled down on the rug in front of it. I was starting to hope for a little canoodlin', but he passed me a manila envelope instead. I opened it to find a legal document.

"It's the prenup you wanted," he said peaceably before I opened it. "Got the valuation of my personal financial situation done and delivered just yesterday morning. So in exchange for doing this for you, I want a favor from you."

"Ok, what?" I asked.

"I've made provisions giving you access to my assets and additionally giving you a sum of money for your own use each year, no questions, no accounting. It's old fashioned, but I don't want you to have to ask me for money to buy a dress for one of our social engagements, for example. I'm open to negotiation on any terms in the agreement but that. I know you have your salary from work, but you shouldn't have to spend it all keeping up with our social whirl." I looked at him; his features were set. This was a hard line for him, and I only briefly thought about arguing about it. But he'd done this for me although he really didn't want to, so I figured I could compromise here.

"OK," I said, and he relaxed. I opened the document, just scanning. I had a lawyer lined up for this; Tony and Bruce had both recommended firms that would provide me with an independent analysis. "Holy shit, Damian," I blurted out when I saw his net worth. He smiled complacently.

"My grandparents had a provision in their wills that set aside two hundred fifty million dollars expressly for Dad's kids. It was in a trust until I turned 21. Then I took it over, Dick and Jason are fine with me handling it." He was worth almost a billion dollars now. "Dad's worth a little over seven billion, so I have ground to make up." His look was calculating and I would have laughed at his competitiveness, but I was too shocked by the money. He nudged me and I read on. The terms were actually pretty simple. In the event of a divorce, I would receive half of his net worth at the time of the signing of this document and any jewelry and other assets he gave me during our marriage. In the event of children, a separate trust would be created for them to which we would both make contributions. He's too clever by half, he knew that I'd want to contribute although I couldn't put in nearly as much as he could. There were conditions to insure that the Wayne's very generous contributions to worthy causes continued under all circumstances. Additionally, the annual allowance was two million dollars and he would pay the charges on a credit card. I lost the power of speech. He opened a separate envelope and handed me a bank book, debit card, and an American Express Centurion card.

I lost the power of speech. He opened the bank book and showed me the balance, five million. "We've got a wedding coming up," he said calmly. "I want you to have whatever you want.... and additionally, I have a favor to ask." I could only stare at him. "I ran into a guy I knew in high school. Total dipshit, his parents bought his admission to university and he just barely graduated. We've never gotten along. He and his bottle-blond blow-up doll of a girlfriend are going to go to the same New Years Eve party that we are. You're always beautiful, but--"

"You'd like something magnificent," I said, untangling my tongue, and he nodded. "So why do you hate this guy so much? I asked, because this went way past high school.

"A couple years ago, he called ICE and said that I was brought into the country illegally," he said baldly. "Because I'm Middle Eastern. Somehow he knew about Talia. There was a huge flap. The State Department was involved, the CIA, the FBI." I could only guess how humiliating that had been. "It was resolved, but it was... problematical. We tried hard to keep it quiet. His parents are actually really nice people who were appalled by him and cut him off. His grandfather, though, is a racist who thought he did the right thing and when he died this summer left him a big chunk of money and a business. The way he's running through the money means that he won't have it much longer, but I want to personally get some revenge, and part of that is showing him what kind of a woman I've somehow gotten to marry me."

I was still speechless, although with fury this time. This attack on Damian rebooted my brain. "Ok, honey," I finally managed to say, "I guess I'll be putting a dent in that bank balance. Do you want sexy, elegant, something else?" I could totally get behind doing my part to annihilate this guy.

"Any or all of the above," he said, fascinated. "There'll be some press outside the party taking pictures."

I needed help. I texted Aslyn, who had a finer fashion sense that I did, asking her for recommendations. She recommended a couple of designers and gave some ideas about the type of dress to look for for this particular party. I set up some appointments the next day. There wasn't much time.

Finally the day that I was most nervous about came up--dress day. My mom and grandma came with me and we met Aslyn, Karen, Selina and Emma at the store. As the associate slid the first dress over my head, suddenly it hit me. I really felt like I was getting married. Up til that moment, I'd been excited and doing my part to plan the party, but this somehow made it real.

The excitement had faded considerably a couple of hours later. I'd tried on over twenty dresses, and nothing was right. My associate couldn't have been nicer, and was zipping me into one last dress, when a second associate who'd been pressed into helping us (amazing what the Wayne name can conjure) rushed in with another damned dress, breathless. "This literally just came in this past hour," she said, puffing a bit. "It doesn't even have the tags yet, but you've just got to try it on, Alex." I agreed and thanked her for the effort, then went out in the dress I already was in. Nobody really liked that one, so I promised that there was only one left. I wasn't the only one feeling the fatigue.

This dress was interesting; it came in two parts. The basic dress had three-quarter length sleeves, with lace that curved around my shoulders and a mermaid skirt and it fit perfectly. An overskirt was the other part, making the silhouette a little fluffy and a whole lot ethereal and romantic. I could just picture it with the Wayne family pearls. I smiled. The associates smiled, and one set a little tiara on my hair. This time I strode out with confidence. My mom took one look and teared up. My grandma patted her hand and pressed her other hand to her lips. Emma let out a sigh, Selina nodded, and Aslyn and Karen squealed. The associates took off the overskirt, and that brought everybody up to get a closer look. I put in my order while I was standing there. There was a bit of a hiccup since they had to track down the price, but I paid in full without a whimper.

Mom went home the next day, and Grandma had to go a day later. Damian and J went with me to see her off, and we saw her comfortably ensconced in the jet before the last hugs.

And then, finally, it was time to get ready for the new year.


	35. New year

"Are you going to wear the pearls tonight?" Damian asked, the merest trace of concern in his voice. I shook my head and smiled.

"Nope, I have a whole lot of dress, and the pearls would just be an afterthought." I paused to arrange everything in the Merry Widow I'd chosen for the best line under the dress, and Damian grinned as he watched. "I know you're worried about them, Damian, but please remember that I am not your grandmother." I put on dainty fuchsia silk sandals with tall heels. "If anybody pointed a gun at me, I would feed it to them," I explained reasonably. He looked startled, then a smile lit his face.

"I did forget that history doesn't have to repeat," he said, "and I'm sorry for not considering your considerable self-defense prowess. I bought into the tragedy."

"I doubt that any woman would have wanted to be remembered just for the necklace she was wearing when she died," I said gently, adjusting the top of the stocking where it clipped into the garter.

"I can't wait to get home and take all that off," he said, eyes heating and stepping toward me. I took the opportunity to tie his heavy silk bow tie. "When did you learn to tie a bow tie?"

"Saw it on YouTube, wanted to surprise you," I said, and touched perfume behind my ears and down my cleavage. I put in the diamond and pearl spray earrings and grinned at him. "You might want to cover your eyes," I warned, then pulled the gown out of the bag. I pulled what seemed like a mountain of silk over my head and did the side zipper.

"Holy shit, Alex," he blurted out, and I checked the mirror. It was strapless, with a pleated and draped bodice with a sash that looked like an obi and a heavy lined skirt that opened at the sky-high slit in the front and followed me around dramatically. "That is incredible." He circled me, not easy to do even in the Dream Closet. "The red and hot pink should clash but they're just beautiful instead. Your dark hair keeps it from overwhelming you. You look both magnificent and formidable." He studied me and shook his head. "The earrings won't do, though." He opened his safe and brought out a box. "I just happened to have these, waiting for an occasion." I opened the box with some trepidation; inside were serious statement earrings. Diamonds were set into the narrow ovals that connected the post to carved rock crystal drops. I put them on; their lack of delicate detail let them stand up to the dress and the colors caught in the crystal drops.

"Perfect," I breathed. "But Damian, it's too much."

"You always say that, and it never is," he said, kissing my shoulder. "Come on, let's show Dad and we'll be on our way."

Bruce's eyebrows nearly met his hairline when he saw my dress. "My word, Miss Alex," Alfred murmured. "You look extraordinary."

""Nobody will be looking anywhere else with you in the room," Bruce said, kissing my cheek. "You've managed to make Damian extraneous." Damian laughed.

"It'll be nice for a change. Hey, Dad, can we take the Fossil Mobile? I don't think the dress will fit in either of our cars."

"The Rolls?" his dad said mockingly. "Yes, it would be a shame to get Alex's dress all crumpled. Don't you have a wrap, Alex?" he asked, frowning.

"I have plenty, but there's valet parking at the hotel and I don't want to have to mess with a shawl," I explained.

"I could drive you," Alfred volunteered. "I too will be in the city for the new year as Nora and I are going to Times Square." We tried to demur, not wanting him to work on his personal time, but he insisted, and Nora, bouncing in, said she thought it would be fun. She'd lost her reserve and was a lot of fun.

"Alex, who did your dress? That's amazing. You look like some sort of social battle goddess, out to lay waste to the field."

"It's absolutely glorious, isn't it? Thanks, Nora. It's made by Zuhair Murad, he's from Lebanon. I love it, it even has pockets so I don't have to carry a purse. I was worried it might be too much."

"Never heard of him, but obviously I should have."

"So who will you be putting under siege, Alex?" Bruce wanted to know, a little concerned.

"Johnson Kimble," Damian said, an edge to his voice that wasn't quite a snarl. His dad scowled.

"To be fair, I'm not personally going to waste him," I pointed out. "This is going to be a nice party, after all, and I'd hate to make a scene or ruin it for anybody. This is just the shot across the bow. So to speak."

"I almost wish I was going," Bruce said, settling more comfortably in his chair. Selina was coming over later, so I kinda doubted that. "Have fun, kids."

When we pulled up in front of the hotel, a few flashes greeted as I unreeled myself from the car with Damian's assistance and a reporter from one of the papers asked who made my dress. We made our way up to the party, where Damian gave our invitation and found us some sparkling wine and began introducing me to people I didn't know, movers and shakers in the elite business community and social sphere. I received a lot of compliments on my dress and had a good time. Most of the people I met were interesting people and conversation was stimulating. We were speaking with a recently-retired former member of Wayne Enterprises's board of directors and her husband, when an unremarkable sandy-haired man came up to greet Damian. I deduced this must be the infamous Johnson Kimble by the woman with him, bottle blond, implanted, and spray tanned the same color as her boyfriend. She wore a dress that was too sexy for the occasion, too tight, and with too much jewelry, which managed the remarkable feat of making everything look cheap and gaudy. Kimble introduced his date as Candice White and joined the conversation, uninvited. The director and her husband melted away, which is when Kimble started throwing barbs into his conversation, trying to get a rise out of Damian. Damian just looked at him indifferently. I was about to say something cutting when I was tapped on the shoulder.

"Hector!" I exclaimed. I was delighted to see him. We exchanged cheek kisses and I reached around and pulled Damian into the conversation. He introduced his wife, Josanne, who was a rising professional on Wall Street. "What are you doing these days, Hector?" I asked. "I haven't seen you covering soccer."

He flushed a little. "I got hurt my final season at Duke," he said. "Had a couple surgeries,so I couldn't have a pro career. By then I knew I wanted to go to law school so it wasn't as catastrophic as it could have been. I'm in the DA's office now. Since they cleaned house after the Joker case, I've been getting a lot of the best cases. I'm going to run for District Attorney in the next election." Josanne patted his arm.

"He'll have a new baby to bolster his credentials as a family man," she said, smiling, and we congratulated them.

I rummaged in my pocket, found my card case, and gave them both a business card. "Let me know how I can help," I said. I'd heard about a Ramirez who was an aggressive but fair prosecutor, but I hadn't connected it with the boy I used to date in high school. Damian and Hector started to talk about his work, and Josanne and I talked about hers. She was a lawyer in one of the big firms, checking compliance with SEC regulations.

"They seem nice," Damian said as we moved along to the dance floor, just in time for a nice slow song. Then we ran into some people who had known Damian's grandparents and had worked with Bruce earlier in his career. They'd been to our engagement party.

"I'd hoped to see you wear the Wayne pearls tonight, Miss Barnes," one of the ladies said. "Martha loved those pearls almost as much as she did Thomas, and she'd be thrilled that her grandson's intended was wearing them."

"I thought about it," I admitted. "But with this dress they'd just be an afterthought, and they deserve to shine."

The women smiled. "It's a vivid dress you're wearing," another said. "But so very striking. It's quite a pity that Martha couldn't know you. I think she'd be very fond of you, Alex."

"It's very kind of you to say so," I said.

"Martha was a lot of fun," the first one said. "She loved a good party and you could always count on her to be appropriate, but she had a wicked sense of humor. Thomas couldn't quite keep up, but he loved trying," she said wistfully.

We chatted a bit more. It was interesting to hear about Damian's grandparents from their friends. Until now, they'd just been victims and Martha had been the owner of a pearl strand that Damian thought was cursed.

I excused myself and went to the ladies room, which in this hotel had a large lounge attached. It was busy, as you might expect, but the stalls were roomy which was a big help as I wrangled my dress. As I checked my makeup, blotting my face and reapplying lipstick, Candice stepped to my side. "What do you see in Damian Wayne anyway?" she asked, reapplying her own lipstick. "Besides his money, of course. He's Muslim, probably a terrorist, absolutely a bastard." There were a couple of gasps in our vicinity.

I used my most bored voice. "I have no idea where you're getting your fake information, Candice. Damian's mother is American as was her mother, and of course Bruce is as well. Damian's an Episcopalian, and you'd be hard-pressed to find anybody who is more devoted to law and order than he is. His parents might not have been married, but I don't think that matters these days." I turned to leave.

"But really, what does he have beside the bank account?" It seemed like she really wanted to know.

"Besides the fact that he loves me, treats me like there's no other women in the world, shows me every day how much he values me? Not much, I guess," I shrugged, and the other women laughed. Candice's face darkened, and I decided to rub it in, just a little. "Of course, his finances are rock solid." I put a faint stress on 'his' and saw when she caught the implication. The women around us chuckled.

"You want to have little brown babies?" she asked angrily, and this time there was a moment of dead silence before more anger from the other women.

"I can't believe you just said that," one woman said in a disgusted tone. "Being around Johnson has dropped your IQ, Candi." I just shook my head and all the women who had heard this left with me, a mass exodus and cold shoulder given to Candice.

I was still inwardly fuming when I caught up to Damian and told him concisely what had happened. He smiled slightly. "Ignore it, Petal. Consider the source. She might have picked the argument, but you finished it." He left to get me a glass of water.

As soon as Damian had moved off, I found myself with unwanted company, the sleazy Johnson Kimble himself. "What's a woman like you doing with Wayne?" he asked, leering at me. "Slumming it with a camel jockey? Or is it just his money you're after?" He was more than pretty drunk. I grimaced at the sour smell of his breath and stepped away. He stepped closer. "Come on, let me show you what a real man's got."

This time I laughed. "I doubt that. You can't compare to Damian in any category. His money buys pretty things, but not me. Even if he was flat broke, I'd still love him because of who he is. He's not his money. He's incredibly smart and kind and he loves me to distraction." My smile edged more toward a snarl, then I brightened it up. "And unlike you, he's got a full head of gorgeous silky hair, a great natural tan, an enormous penis, and an incredible imagination. What could I possibly want with you?"

I'd pushed him too far. He bared his teeth and grabbed my breast. I saw red that was not my dress, grabbed his wrist, and put him in the most painful hold I could inflict. "Never touch a woman's breast like that!" I barked, immediately attracting attention. Or maybe it was the man making pathetic noises that did that. An older man frowned and summoned the doorman just as Damian arrived and took in the scene. His scowl turned to fury as he saw the scrapes that Kimble's nails had left on my skin.

'You son of a --" he made a fist and was ready to swing, when one of the bystanders stopped him.

"Your lady has things well in hand, Wayne," one of the older men we'd spoken with earlier said in a calming voice. "And given how neatly she has him begging for mercy, I think Kimble made a very poor choice of victim." The crowd laughed and I dropped his sorry ass, resisting the urge to kick. "It's unfortunate that your evening has been affected, my dear," he said to me, "but it would be a shame to risk getting blood on such a lovely dress. You certainly brighten up the party." He offered me his arm and we moved away, his wife taking Damian's arm and bringing him along.

"Calm down, honey," I said, touching his cheek.

He snorted, blue eyes blazing, then he smiled suddenly. "I will if you will," he said, and I smiled reluctantly. "You can't expect me to believe you don't want to drop kick him into the middle of next month." He touched the scrapes gently. "I can't believe he laid his hands on you."

"Control your temper," the man said calmly. "The man's been disgraced publicly. Doors will close to him that for the sake of his parents have remained open."

"Doors that he will need, considering how he's ruining the company his grandfather left him," his wife sniffed. "Damian, he's just sunk himself. Nobody will have anything to do with him after that scene. I personally saw him approach Alex and her try to leave before he grabbed her." She smiled. "That was quite a nice trick, Alex, dear. Refreshing to see a bully get what's coming to him." A little more calming, and we were ready to socialize again.

We excused ourselves to find something to toast the impending new year and found a nook against the wall to celebrate it with a kiss. A nice, appropriate kiss. I could wait til we got home for the rest of it. One's spouse could be a help or a hindrance in the circles the Waynes moved in, and I was determined to be as much of a help as possible. The approval of the older people would help, as I'd seen from the scene we'd just escaped. Damian was already widely respected for his acumen and abilities, but he'd been considered a little wild from always having shown up to events like this with a different woman each time. Until we'd met again. I smiled and kissed him lightly, just because.

"Feel better?" Damian asked, putting his arm around me.

"Yes. Being with you always makes things better. You?"

"I've calmed down, but I've got a plan now. I'm going to hire away the remaining talent at his business; I've got a start up that could use capable people. Then I'm going to sit and watch his business go under, him flailing helplessly."

"I like that," I said.

"He's done here," Damian said impatiently. "Let him crawl off somewhere else. He deserves worse." Then, curiously, "What did you say that got him so riled? Kimble usually isn't quite that crass as to grab a woman in such a public setting."

"Well, he's very drunk. He told me to let him show me what a real man is like." I made a face. "So I told him that you have great hair, a great natural tan, an enormous penis and a fantastic imagination, so what could I possibly want with him?"

He laughed, hugging me to him. "My darling, I love you. Do you think we're done here? Maybe I could see if Alfred and Nora are ready to go?"

"This has been quite an action-packed party," I agreed, "But I'd like to go home now. Mission accomplished, I think."

He texted Alfred; he and Nora were indeed ready to come home, and we made a farewell circuit, thanking our hosts and saying goodnight to the people we'd socialized with earlier.

Nora was so cute; she'd had a great time in Times Square and chattered happily about the entertainment, and how her uncle had taken her for ice cream after the ball dropped. I smiled, remembering the times Bucky had taken me for ice cream. Apparently uncles have a particular affinity for ice cream. Alfred listened indulgently and added his own comments. He let us off at the front of the house, and as soon as we were inside, I took off my shoes. "Ah," I sighed with pleasure, wiggling my toes. Nora giggled and wished us a happy new year before scampering off. Damian looked at me, a little forlorn.

"This wasn't the most fun we've ever had on New Years Eve, Petal," he said. I thought about it.

"Well, it definitely ranks above the first time we went to a new year's party," I said. The party at the Yale Club, where we'd been kidnapped by the Joker. Damian made a face.

"I'd really have to exert myself to make something suck more," he said, and I laughed.

"Maybe next year we could take a leaf from Bruce's book and stay in. Have our own private celebration," I suggested, and he brightened.

"I like that idea. Let me go get a bottle of wine, then we'll go upstairs," he promised, and I waited as he dashed for the kitchen and the wine cooler. He was back with a nice bottle of cava, two glasses, and he took my hand as we climbed the stairs. But the wine was forgotten for awhile once we got to our bedroom. It was a little warm once we opened it. "I wonder where we could find room to stick a little refrigerator up here," he mused as we sipped.

I just smiled. "Happy New Year, Damian, honey. This is going to be a wonderful year."

He kissed me. "This time next year, you'll be Ms Alex Barnes-Wayne, mine forever."

"And you'll be mine. But I'm already yours."

He sighed with pleasure. "And I'm yours. But I want to make it legal. I can't wait for our wedding, all the planning aside. Your dress must be something else; your mom teared up every time it was mentioned. I can't wait to see you walking toward me."

We chatted a little more about our upcoming wedding, then went to sleep.

The next morning, we picked up our clothes and straightened everything up before going downstairs. Selina smiled as we greeted her and Bruce at the breakfast table. "Alex got her picture in the paper," she said, waving it at us. I looked pretty good; the dress looked fantastic and the comment said I looked ravishing, a little yellow journalism there.

"Don't suppose you'd like to tell me why I got a call from Vance Kimble this morning, apologizing for his son's conduct?" Bruce said encouragingly. I made a face, Damian frowned, then told his dad what had happened. "No wonder Vance sounded mortified," Bruce said, shaking his head. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that Johnson is being sent away in disgrace. The business he inherited is down in Tallahassee, and he will be going there personally to run it."

"It's something, I guess," Damian said grumpily. "But I wanted to watch him twist."

"Soon you'll be too busy to think about Kimble," his dad said bracingly. "Alex, have you decided how many bridesmaids you want? You need to think about their dresses as well, and--" he was off again in Bridalland. Then just to make sure his son didn't feel left out, assigned some tasks to him too. The holidays were definitely over. "And have you thought about favors for the tables yet? Those candied almonds are always good, but maybe you want something different..."


	36. At last

January turned out to be a dreary month, with dirty snow and slush and ice and low dark clouds that looked like they'd start spitting out snow at any moment and frequently did, but as we slogged through the month, we got an incredible amount of wedding planning done. I selected my bridesmaids (Aslyn as maid of honor, Barbara, Karen--Rill wasn't sure if she could get time off from work, that being a busy month for her company--Cara, Martha, and Bess) and chose dresses that everybody seemed to like (hopefully they weren't just being nice about it). I offered to buy the dresses since most of my bridesmaids were having to fly in and Aslyn and Karen would have expenses from Aslyn's wedding too. We'd selected scholarship funds at our alma maters, animal shelters, and soup kitchens in lieu of wedding presents, decided to have a candy table with little bags so people could take some home with them instead of some cheesy favor they'd just throw away, chosen our wedding invitations, and I'd found a pair of beautiful, comfortable shoes for the wedding. I also warned my groom that I had the jewelry I wanted to wear for the trip down the aisle, and the only ornament I required from him was a wedding band. He had a few ideas about the type of wedding ring he'd like, and I'd started researching. Toward the end of the month, we interviewed photographers, videographers, bands and also decided on a string quartet to provide music during the ceremony and dinner. We made our selections and got everybody booked. We left Aslyn in the dust, planning-wise, but she also didn't have the Great (Wedding) Dictator inquiring about our progress every. Single. Night. Our progress was really just sort of self-defense.

Nora went home after looking around at several campuses in the area, and I was sorry to see her go; she was bright and lively once she lost her reserve.

Damian brought Bruce home one night all battered and bloody; he'd gotten into a fight with Killer Croc and for the first time since I'd moved in, I stepped into my support role as Alfred's backup medic and patched him up. I started napping on the nights when Batman and Robin went out so that I could be alert when they came back and took over treating Damian's bumps and bruises myself. Alfred understood that it wasn't any kind of slight to himself and it worked out nicely that each of us tended to one crimefighter. I started making Damian do more stretching, and he admitted later that it helped.

Work was going well, and we'd isolated a promising candidate for the lab. The problem was that he wasn't graduating til May, so our plans had to be scaled back a bit. We also found an engineering grad who could begin messing around with novel designs to use the chemoluminescent bacteria to provide lighting fixtures, and a genetic engineer who was interested in making our algae glow so that we could increase the electron capture there too. It was an abrupt expansion of our plans, and kind of scary, but both Tony and Bruce began teaching me management skills.

We got the prenup signed just before Valentines Day. There wasn't much fuss; Damian's lawyers had done an excellent job and mine had been impressed with the generosity and terms. I didn't have many assets beyond the jewelry he'd given me and the retirement investments that I made through work, a small savings account, so my valuation was a lot easier to accomplish. I insisted on a clause that stated that if we did split up, the Wayne pearls would be returned to Damian and that the intent was that they would be passed down to our children, if we were fortunate enough to have any. We each put our copies in our safes and I relaxed, knowing that I'd helped to protect Damian in the event of a disaster.

For Valentines Day, we had dinner out, went to a musical, and finished celebrating at home. He sent me an extravagant bouquet at work that made Sigurd sneeze. His gift was quite restrained, for Damian, a simple diamond pendant that I could wear for every day. I wore it often, but I still preferred the Asgardian pendant I'd gotten for high school graduation. I'd had to have the clasp replaced a few times, and finally Emma made me a chain our of a special platinum alloy that was extremely strong. I got him a set of shirt studs that coordinated with the cuff links I'd bought him and a black kitten, which he promptly named Nicholas. Nicholas quickly developed the habit of riding around on his shoulder, and I hoped he wouldn't be a really big cat. Winston took the kitten under his wing, so to speak, but Grayson was jealous and frequently ignored the little cat. Hestia was just glad to add to the number of cats she could curl up with and nap.

By the end of February, Damian had lined up his groomsmen, four friends from college and grad school as well as my brother and Dick and decided (surprise!) on tuxedos with cummerbunds and bow ties to coordinate with the bridesmaids dresses. He himself, he informed me, would be wearing basic black and white. "Color coding," he told me, his eyes twinkling. "So you can tell who you're marrying if you get confused." Funny man.

In March, we met with the St Regis staff and decided on the menu and the elements that they would provide, such as the tablecloths and seating. The rooftop location was so beautiful that we decided against any other decorations aside from flowers. We also chose the baker (and that selection was especially fun and tasty)and after some deliberation, chose a variety of flavors. We were unsure about the exact count for the guest list yet, but it was going to be a big cake with several layers. One would be lemon thyme, others would be chocolate chip in a remarkable vanilla cake filled with chocolate mousse, devils food, and an almond cake filled with apricot preserves. Wanting everybody to have a treat, Damian's groom's cake was a delicious gluten and sugar-free cake, a red velvet creation with an ombre effect with each cake layer. Alfred had unearthed an antique silver Victorian cake stand, low to the table and capable of holding a vast amount of cake. The cake would be a mix of round and hexagonal shapes with pale sage green fondant, the base of each layer would be outlined in pretty sugar 'pearls' and decorated with white, red, and peach lotus blossoms (long life, honor, good luck, health), simple and hopefully elegant. We selected the florist, deciding on red, peach, and green along with plenty of white flowers for the tables, ceremony, and a few other places, and strictly white arrangements for the head table at the reception. I'd choose my bouquet later, when Damian wasn't around. We efficiently cleared up a number of smaller details as well, which kept Bruce happy. That month also began the construction of the water feature in the back garden as well as a stone barbeque area. The bulbs we'd planted in the fall came up and we liked it so much that we started talking about adding flower beds to the front of the house the next year. There was a gatehouse on the property that had been falling into neglect since it was rarely used, and Bruce decided to renovate it since, as he said, we were having a lot more company these days and it might be nice to have an overflow option just in case. He probably had another motive too, but he didn't say. I thought it might be nice for Nora to stay in if she went to school here, allow for independence, a rent-free situation, but still close to family.

By the end of April, all of our big things were nailed down and all we had left were small details, as well as counting RSVPs. This was good, since preparation for Aslyn's wedding was ramping up and the bridesmaids planned her wedding shower and bachelorette party. I sent their wedding gift and went in for the fitting for my dress. It was pretty and sleek, a cool blue. Like her dress, it was a lace mermaid style and had cap sleeves. Our bouquets would be blue and white.

In May, Aslyn was kind of melting down under the pressure, but then she didn't have Bruce directing her effort. Damian and I were pretty much stress-free at this point. My dress had come in and I went in for a fitting; there was a problem with the zipper over my butt, so that had to be redone, and the white power satin Merry Widow I'd gotten specially for this dress was ferocious and really pulled my waist in, so there were additional adjustments there. Otherwise, it was perfect. I couldn't wait to wear it. I thought that there was enough tulle in the ensemble, so I didn't go with a veil. I was going with a sleek and complicated knot at the back of my head for my hair style, and chose a pretty silver-toned comb with delicate silver flowers, pearls, and a couple of crystals for a bit of sparkle.

The last week of the month and the first of June were a whirlwind of activities, what with the shower, a sedate bachelorette party (we only went to one club; we had ribald cupcakes, but that was pretty much it), and finally it was Aslyn's day. We got done early; she was a gorgeous bride, tall and slender like her father; the rich ivory of her gown set off the creamy skin she'd inherited from him. We'd all gotten dressed, but we still had about forty-five minutes to kill, so we got a bottle of champagne and covered Aslyn with a sheet to prevent any accidents. It was an excellent way to pass the time. Finally, I double-checked the backs on the tanzanite earrings she'd given to the bridesmaids, and it was time. After the beautiful ceremony and the rest of the pictures, it was time for dinner, then cake and dancing. Aslyn throws an excellent party. "Just a couple more months, and it'll be our turn," Damian murmured as we swayed to a slow song.

"I can't wait," I sighed. "The cake is going to be outstanding." He laughed, but it was important; the one off note at Aslyn's wedding was that the cake, while beautifully decorated, was bland. "You know I love my desserts."

Our new employees started at the lab, and Tony had been right--it was a good time to bring people with new ideas in. We had a little lab graduation party for Madison. She took a week off and started full time; with the new personnel, she had more than enough to do. The careful vetting Tony had done (and I'd helped with) resulted in a group that collaborated well. I'd hoped for that, but you never really know until you start working together.

There were a few hiccups along the way; the band broke up in July and we couldn't find another to replace it, so, after a few deep breaths and calm thoughts, we booked a DJ who promised to be there unless he was having emergency surgery or died. I decided on the flowers for my bouquet (ferns-- magic, fascination, confidence and shelter, ivy--married love, fidelity, different types of light coral, red and white roses--desire, love, you're heavenly, and jasmine--sensuality) and ordered boutonnieres, bridesmaids bouquets which were similar to mine but smaller, and corsages for my mom, grandma, Emma and Selina. I polled my female friends who were coming and none of them was that enthusiastic about a bouquet toss, so I planned to give it to my mom and dad--their anniversary was coincidentally a few days before. Nora had been accepted at the International Culinary Center and moved over. The gate house wasn't close to being done--some structural issues had cropped up--but it wasn't like there wasn't plenty of room in the house. Alfred was thrilled.

Since I didn't need anything, we decided not to have a bridal shower, but my bridesmaids gave me a tea instead (with a coffee option) with all sorts of delicious scones and tea cakes and little sandwiches and fun games. My bachelorette party was as low-keyed as Aslyn's had been--we went out for a few drinks and had ice cream after. I worked out with the heavy bag extra during this time due to all the delicious food. Two days before the wedding, the baker called, frantic because the employee who had made the exquisite paste flowers that had sold us on the cake design had quit. I freaked out a little and was disappointed, but decided to just to substitute fresh flowers instead. My florist was happy to send over some of the food-safe kinds that were in my bouquet. Damian thought that would be a great substitute and took me for a couples massage. Despite all our planning and the few issues that had come up, there was still stress.

On the day of the wedding, we woke up leisurely and made love before I had to get up. I was meeting my half of the wedding party at the St Regis for brunch, then to a salon to get manicures and pedicures and to have our hair and makeup done. Alfred drove me, my mom, grandma, and Nora into the city; we'd put my bridesmaids who were coming in from out of town up at the hotel. Rill had been able to make it at the last minute; she came along too as did Selina and Emma. When we got back, Alfred had taken delivery of the flowers, and we started to get ready. I had old--the pearls, the new--the dress, shoes, lingerie... borrowed--an earring back from Bess, I'd lost one of mine somewhere, blue--my panties, and Grandma had given me a genuine sixpence for my shoe. The photographer caught some pictures of this and we went across the street to Central Park for pictures. When we went back to kill a little time (again with the Champagne), my groom and his men posed for photographs there too. Finally, it was time. My mom had gone ahead to scout things out and make sure all was well, so it was just me and my bridesmaids. Aslyn was lovely in her red dress, the other bridesmaids lovely in peach, Barbara especially. I smoothed the front of my dress unnecessarily,looked in the mirror to see the vision of a dress, the Wayne pearls--I double-checked the clasp--and my pearl and diamond spray earrings. I think the rest of me looked ok. I made sure that Aslyn had Damian's carved platinum band, and we were off. My dad met us and signaled to the officiant, Damian's Episcopalian priest. The quartet struck up the Lohingrin bridal chorus, and my bridesmaids started out. I began to regret having so many; I wanted to hustle up and get this done.

At last it was my turn, and Dad walked with me as we moved slowly up the aisle between our guests. I had no eyes for anything but my groom, handsome and elegant as always, waiting for me. His eyes widened as he saw me, his expression a humbling mixture of awe and love. Eventually we made it to him, my dad keeping my pace slow--too slow. I wanted to sprint on up there. My dad kissed my cheek before sitting with my family and Bruce and I handed off my bouquet to Aslyn before turning to Damian and beaming at him. He grinned back.

The ceremony was fairly brief. I'd thought that Damian would want to write our vows, but he didn't, a combination of love of the traditional service and also something unexpected. "What's between us is private, only for me and you. It's enough that people know we're in love, they don't need to know how deeply I treasure you, how much gratitude I feel that you chose me, the power and depth and breadth of my love. There's no point in oversharing." So, yeah. I had no problem with using the traditional ceremony after that. My eyes welled with tears of joy when I said 'I do,' and, ever the gentleman, Damian whipped out a handkerchief to delicately blot my eyes and avoid making a mess of my makeup. Then he sniffled a little and dabbed at his own. Then we were invited to kiss to seal the deal. Damian put his arms around me and lifted me off my feet in a spontaneous hug after, and our guests cheered and applauded.

I was so blitzed with happiness that I barely registered there was music playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen began the recessional. Aslyn handed me my bouquet and took Dick's arm before Damian offered his to me and, beaming, we began the long walk up the aisle, our first as a married couple. Then it was back across the street for pictures with the whole wedding party, and back up to the rooftop for the reception. I shed the fluffy over skirt--Barbara ran it up to the suite for me--to Damian's surprise and delight, and we were presented to our guests, for the first time, as Damian and Alex Wayne. Dinner was served although I barely tasted it. We ate quickly and circulated among the tables to speak to our guests rather than making them go through a long reception line. Then it was back up to the head table for toasts, then over to where the magnificent cake stood. We cut into a random layer--yay, the almond layer--and carefully fed each other small bites. Then the first dance, a romantic waltz. Damian was a fantastic dancer as long as he had steps to follow. Then my dance with my dad, then one with Bruce. Damian danced with my mom and grandma. Then I presented my bouquet to my mom and dad, and mingled with our guests. There was no garter toss; Damian had flatly refused to go burrowing under my dress in public. "In front of our parents and grandma? And your uncle? Your boss? All the other people? I think not," he'd said, and I'd been glad to agree.

Finally, it was time to go, and the guests who were left--most of them, actually, it was a good party--threw confetti as we passed. We raced down the stairs and to the familiar territory of the suite we'd shared. It was like coming home. Damian opened the door, propped it open, and carried me over the threshold and into the parlor that had the bullseye windows, my second-favorite room. He had chilled cava waiting, and we sipped the wine as we talked about our wedding and relaxed a little. My legs and feet were sore after so much standing and running around. He put the overskirt back on because he liked the fluffiness and delicate embroidery and wanted to play with it a little, then took my foot to massage it.

"Mrs Wayne," he said with satisfaction after he finished the second foot. "I should say, Ms Barnes-Wayne," he corrected himself, and I smiled and kissed him.

"I answer to either," I said. He grinned.

"That is a splendid dress," he said, playing with the tulle. "You were truly a vision, ethereal and glorious. I couldn't believe how beautiful you made the dress." He touched the pearls. "I'm coming around to these. Dad was really pleased you wore them."

"I made sure that the dress would show them off," I said, snuggling against him. "I wanted to be sure I'd look good on your arm. You're always so splendid in evening dress."

"I feel rather plain in comparison," he said, and topped off our glasses while I snorted. Damian could never be plain. I finally remembered to look at my wedding band; I'd been so busy that I'd only glanced at it and noted the sparkle of diamonds. It was a slim band with both round and baguette diamonds, set in an irregular pattern. I frowned at it, and Damian burst into laughter. "It's Morse code," he said. "Round diamonds for dots, baguettes for dashes. It says 'I love you.'" I looked at it more closely. "I had to compromise, 'you' is just 'u'. There wasn't enough room on the ring for the whole sentiment." It was clever and romantic and thoughtful, so typically Damian. I felt his ring was dull and uninspired by comparison, with only the inscription of our initials and the date, but he loved it, not really being a diamond ring type of guy himself. We cuddled and chatted, coming down from the emotions of the day, resting a bit, but we were still energized. We moved to the bedroom after I stood and shed the overskirt. He was delighted to help me out of the gown, carefully putting it aside, grinning as he saw the lacy garter on my thigh, just for him. We celebrated our union well past midnight.

The great thing about having access to a private jet is that you don't have to leap out of bed to make your flight. We made love again, got our luggage and collected Grandma, who was flying back with us. Alfred had brought her in to town and would be taking my wedding dress and Damian's tuxedo back to the house. We stopped in Britain for a couple of days before going to Paris and catching our train. One of those days was a party that my mom's family who hadn't been able to come for the wedding threw for us, an unexpected pleasure.

The train was everything I dreamed it would be and more. Elegant and opulent, the passengers are expected to dress nicely, so there were no jeans or sweats on view and added to the ambiance. Our cabin suite was extraordinary, all beautifully polished wood and beautiful details. We were met by our steward at the train station and settled in with a welcome glass of Champagne, and we watched as Paris and the country side slid by. We dressed for dinner, an extravagant four course affair, and had a night cap in the bar car before retiring for the night. Unfortunately, all the bunks were singles, so after canoodling, one of us had to relocate. I was ok with the top bunk. The next morning, breakfast was served in our compartment and we watched the countryside and talked as we entered Hungary. Lunch was served in the luxurious dining cars, and we arrived in Budapest in the late afternoon. We transferred to the same hotel we'd stayed in before, and Damian had even reserved the same room. It was nice to share a bed again. We breakfasted at the hotel, then were given a private tour of the city, lunch at a restaurant that was new to us, and enjoyed a short cruise on the Danube. Then we were brought back to the train in time for a cocktail before dinner, and another night in our cabin. The people we were traveling with were generally very pleasant and interested in the places we'd be visiting. We formed a loose group with a couple from Edinburgh, and elderly couple from Stockholm, and a family of four from Melborne; the kids were in their late teens and it was fun to see their reactions to the places we went. Everybody shared tidbits from their guidebooks and we had a very good time.

The next morning, we had breakfast in our cabin, stopped at a pretty mountain town called Sinaia where we disembarked and toured the beautiful nearby Peles Castle. Then Bucharest was only a short distance away. We got a short tour of the city, then checked ourselves into the Epoque Hotel, a lovely and luxurious hotel. Damian had booked us for the spa's "Romeo and Juliet' couples treatment. We skipped out on the group dinner in favor of a romantic meal in our hotel followed by a little honeymoon time. We rejoined the train the next morning and we traveled into Bulgaria, stopping in Varna to enjoy the view of the Black Sea. Dinner was another delicious four course extravaganza, and we enjoyed our last night on board the train. The next morning we watched as the train passed through the beautiful Thracian Plains and had a special Turkish-inspired lunch. We pulled into Istanbul in the late afternoon and reluctantly said goodbye to our new friends. We went to W and checked into the spa studio suite, which featured a private garden for us to enjoy. I went to work out in their gym while Damian checked in and looked at emails, then we tried the Turkish bath before asking the concierge for recommendations for a restaurant. The next day, we explored some of the highlights of the city, including the Hagia Sophia, of course, but the political climate was rather uncertain and we left the day after that. Have I mentioned how nice it is to have access to a private jet? It's fantastic. It was good to be going home.


	37. We expand

We settled into married life easily; it wasn't so different from when we'd been living together because we'd been fully committed to each other then too. Damian had a few of the photographs from the wedding--one of me getting ready, the moment in the ceremony when he dried my eyes, and one of us waltzing--framed and he put them in his office. But then he brought the first one home, since although he liked looking at it, he didn't want people in his office for business to see me putting on my stockings. The other two were romantic enough to satisfy his heart. I also framed a couple of them for my desk, and our relatives also asked for some prints.

Time passed pretty quickly. We were getting ready to apply for our first patents at work, and Tony and I were working on another article. At home, it was with relief that it turned out Nicholas was a small cat and continued to ride on Damian's shoulder around the house, to the delight of both. Dick and Barbara got engaged; they had learned from our experience and actually did elope, which frustrated Bruce no end, so he threw his considerable expertise into planning an elaborate reception for them. The holidays were delightful and there was nothing to mar them this year. We had my family for Thanksgiving and Christmas, although Bucky and Emma started alternating these holidays between us and Peter's new family. Nora was reunited with her little sister Jane and their mom when they came over to spend Christmas with us. Nora was learning a lot and was helping Alfred out in the kitchen. Meals got more novel. Jane was quieter and not as exuberant as her sister, but whip-smart and still determined to become a pilot. Bruce set up some appointments with her at flight schools and informational interviews with some pilots, both commercial and private. Damian and I had been going to spend New Years Eve at home, but we got invited to a party with a younger crowd and decided to attend. I'd been getting a reputation for being fashion forward, and had been receiving offers from a few designers to dress me for social events. Damian liked the idea, and so did I--I couldn't wear most of the dresses more than once, and some of them fell from style very quickly, so the allure of borrowing a gown for events was powerful. Damian was proud of me and encouraged me with frequent jewelry gifts. Right after we'd gotten back from our honeymoon, Bruce had given me the rest of his mother's jewelry, a diamond fringe necklace and matching earrings, a set of necklace, earrings and rings with diamonds and carved emeralds, beautiful peridot earrings, a ruby ring, a sapphire necklace, and a surprisingly modest engagement ring and wedding band. Our fingers were the same size.

We didn't have a lot of time on our anniversary that we could take away from our jobs, so we took the weekend and went out to California for a few days where I dusted off my rusty surfing skills and Damian took some lessons. The real celebration was much more private, the removal of my IUD. We were ready to start a family. "It's weird," I confessed to my husband. "I've spent a considerable amount of time and energy trying hard to prevent pregnancy. It's a little hard to wrap my head around unprotected sex."

Damian chuckled. "Finally, my boys get the opportunity to show what they're made of. Literally." I laughed and he tickled me, and we ventured into territory previously unknown to us. It took us five whole months of very frequent trying before I conceived.

And then I miscarried in the third month. We were crushed. It was too early to know what sex the baby had been.

After a period of mourning, we decided we were ready to try again, and that summer got the glad news that I was pregnant again. And I miscarried again, at the same time as my first miscarriage. My doctors put the brakes on further efforts to conceive while they studied the situation. Not that we were trying, the second miscarriage had been devastating.

A few months later, the doctors felt that they had some answers. The news was rather daunting; my mutations were coming into play. Pregnancy in enhanced and superhuman women was a rare thing, mostly due to the work of a hero, so the pool of knowledge was rather shallow. However, there had been a woman in China and one in Spain who had strength and durability mutations who had miscarried after three months. Their doctors found that their uterine muscles were correspondingly stronger and, like all other enhanced muscle, had less flexibility than normal tissue and the muscles were larger than normal. So I had a uterus that had more muscle, stronger muscle, and less capability to grow and expand. The takeaway was that without medical assistance, the uterus could only expand so far; it wanted to stay in its normal state. But there were some medications, including a special class of strong muscle relaxants, that had enabled the woman in Spain to have a successful pregnancy. The baby had been premature, but hadn't suffered any health issues. The news was sobering. I'd have to go on bed rest after my third month, which would have a big impact. I gave Tony the report to see if it would be possible to work something out. He listened, then patted my hand. "Whatever you need," he said simply. "It might be a good time to start transitioning you to more of a supervisory role anyway. You've got a great crew. Let's start interviewing for someone to take over your role, and we'll bring you into starting to supervise Avenger Tech too. I've been doing that, and I could use some help. You can do that from home, a lot, Skyping meetings if you have to. And we have a company policy of six months' parental leave after the birth, so you'd be eligible for that anyway."

Damian and I talked about it. A lot. Finally we agreed to give it one last try. Damian put his foot down that this would be the last attempt; he said it had nearly broken him to see me grieving after the miscarriages. It took me longer to conceive this last time because we weren't as enthusiastic as we had been the two times prior. But I got the news on Valentines Day, and from there the monitoring increased immediately. They had an ultrasound instrument that did better with enhanced tissues this time, but it still wasn't enough to get clear pictures. The two blood tests they did were free from fetal abnormalities, though, so that was reassuring. At two and a half months, they started me on the muscle relaxers, and I passed the date when my two previous pregnancies had ended. I felt cautiously optimistic. Then they added a couple of other medications to help keep my uterus relaxed and flexible and able to grow, and right after the second trimester blood tests and amniocentesis promptly put me on bed rest. I had my own team of doctors and nurses, and the doctors from the two other women consulted with my team, sharing information and analyses.

After four months, they increased the strength of the muscle relaxant and bed rest was strictly enforced. I was allowed to walk to the bathroom, across the hall to the conservatory, and take the elevator down to the library and dining room, but that was it. Any trip longer than those few steps had to be done in a wheelchair. I would have been upset about it, but the relaxers made it too difficult to walk more than a short distance. The team wasn't able to find a stronger ultrasound, so all of those examinations couldn't be performed, and after the amnio, I'd had discomfort significant enough to discourage any other invasive fetal testing like CVS. My doctors were freaked out; it was classified as a high risk pregnancy and we were essentially flying blind. They started sending someone out weekly to take my vitals and give me and the baby a check up because nobody wanted to deal with a seatbelt anywhere near my belly. I also had a physical therapist who supervised the only movement I could really do, stretching, very carefully. I started to have to spend much of my time lying on my left side, which made it difficult to do any work. I developed gestational diabetes as an additional awesome thing. Generally, I felt like shit and listened to a lot of audiobooks while silently encouraging the baby to stay put and grow strong.

At the end of the sixth month, the visiting doctor thought she heard a second heartbeat. This was confirmed. I was carrying twins. While this was amazing news, it also pushed the risky pregnancy up into really new territory. There was tense meeting where the possibility of aborting one of the twins for safety was discussed, but there was no firm consensus of what it would mean for me or the surviving baby, and it was easy to say no. By the middle of the seventh month, I was on the maximum safe dose of the muscle relaxant and had to concentrate in order to do something so simple as brushing my teeth. Damian had to shower with me and we had a nurse live in to get me to the bathroom, dress me, feed me, and monitor the babies as well as possible. Damian set up an office in our bedroom; it was reassuring to have him near and to hear him on the computer or murmuring through a meeting. Then more issues cropped up. My blood pressure went up and occasionally I'd have a contraction. It was too early. I did everything I could to remain limp, encouraged my uterus to hang in there just a little more, and pray. Every day I stayed pregnant was a benefit to my babies. The event took a toll on Damian; during the sixth month he got a vasectomy and hovered over me. It was irritating to never feel like I had a moment's privacy, to have everyone focused on my uterus rather than me as a whole person, but everybody was dealing with it the best they could. I asked my parents to stay away; they'd come for frequent visits earlier in the pregnancy, but they got more worried as the whole grotesque circus lumbered on and I could only deal with so much. J moved to the city after his graduation--which I had to miss-- was completely freaked out, and he was a doctor. He was doing his internship in the city and had decided he wanted to work in the ER. Bruce pounced on him, offered him the gatehouse to stay in. It was nice to have J close by although I didn't see him much.

We almost made it to 35 weeks, by some miracle. By this time I had a fetal monitor permanently attached and it went off at two in the morning. The whole house was in an uproar. There was fetal distress and my doctors sent a quinjet to fetch me, since it could hold a couple of doctors as well as having an emergency medical suite onboard. Damian came with me. Bruce was going to call my parents and bring J along. By the time we reached the clinic, the determination to induce labor had been made. It was simply too dangerous for both the babies and me to allow the pregnancy to continue.

At the clinic, I was taken straight into the birthing suite and had what seemed like every monitor they could scrounge attached to my person. They performed an exam and got me started on medication to induce labor while the doctors clustered, talking about whether I should have a C section or deliver vaginally. There was no clear advantage either way except that they were concerned about the effect cutting through the muscle might have on me, so I agreed to have a go with a normal delivery. The medication worked faster than expected; my water broke very decidedly and contractions started immediately. Once my uterus was allowed to act, it apparently decided that efficiency was its primary goal, and the contractions quickly got stronger and stronger. The muscle relaxers started to wear off--I was past the time for my next dose, which while it was nice to be able to move, meant that all hell was breaking loose in my pelvis. The muscles were still tight and the contractions were brutally hard and painful. Labor proceeded at a speed that had the staff worried and I was twisting from the contractions too much to allow an epidural. My poor Damian was hanging in there, but his usual golden tanned face was an unattractive ashy color. The nurse arranged a drape over my knees as a contraction lifted me off the bed. There was some sort of excited chatter down at the other end, but I was trying not to pulverize my husband's hand too hard to pay attention. I was also trying hard not to scream too much. Another one of those brutal contractions, and the excitement hit a fever pitch. There was a new kind of pain, and with the next contraction, one of the babies popped right out. "It's a girl," Damian reported, torn between joy and terror, and six minutes later, it was all over with the delivery of a boy. At that moment, Bruce arrived, took one look around, and keeled over like a felled tree.

But it turned out that it wasn't quite over. I was bleeding too much, and hustled out of the room into surgery to fix it. When I woke up, I was fine and relieved beyond words to have two babies on my exterior. I had IVs hooked up, some monitors but not nearly as many as before, and for the first time in months, I was alone. It wasn't as awesome as I was anticipating, because I wanted answers. But before I could find the call button, the door opened and Damian slid in, a baby in each arm. He hurried over. What I wouldn't give for a shower. He showed me the babies; my muscles had atrophied so much over the months of pregnancy I wasn't sure I could hold them safely. "They're healthy and we have a total of twenty toes and twenty fingers," he reassured me straight off. Then a nurse hustled in to find out where the babies had disappeared to, found me awake, and summoned the doctor.

I stayed in the clinic for a week and a half. The doctors ran every test known to medical science on little Josephine Martha and Alexander James as well as a few that I think they made up. They were small but fine. Tony gave Damian the use of one of the guestrooms where he could sleep a little, but Damian hovered over his kids during every test so he could reassure me. They fast tracked the genetic analysis, and we later found that although both kids had somehow inherited enhanced strength that was less than mine, only my son had inherited the dance combat ability. It seemed weird that the genes in my eggs had been affected by my mutation-causing accident, but weird or not, it had happened. My parents were ecstatic to meet their grandchildren, and my dad had to force himself not to pluck them away from whoever was holding them at any given time. The babies seemed to especially love Bucky, who could soothe them when no one else could. I wondered if I could borrow him for a couple of years, full time. After I was discharged from the clinic, we spent a couple of nights upstairs in the guest room just in case of emergency, then we went home.

I started to work with a trainer to recover some muscle and be able to walk more than a few steps, but the pregnancy and birth had taken a lot out of me in other ways that weren't so easy to fix. They didn't want me to breast feed while waiting for all the drugs to work their way out of my body, and during that time, my milk dried up so I couldn't even nurse my babies. It really upset me that I couldn't do that for them. I was diagnosed with post postpartum depression and put on some medication for that that I had to take for about six months. The babies were about a month old before I ever changed a diaper. Damian had to do most of the baby care, although Bruce was always eager to do baby-related tasks, excited to participate after having missed out on everything with his own son. Alfred was enchanted by the babies and J and Nora also liked spending time with them. J talked to my doctors and liked to think of himself as a safeguard in case of emergency. It was a couple of months before I had enough stamina for the christening, performed by the same priest who had married us. She was delighted to do so, and our family and friends were there for the service and the party we had at the house afterward. There was a nice chaise by the water lily pond (that also had a little fountain, for added fun) with an umbrella over it for me so I could take breaks when I needed to. We'd asked Aslyn, Kate, Selina, Sif, Tony, Loki, Dick, and Alfred to be godparents. What it meant, practically, was that I didn't see my offspring much that afternoon. Tony had brought with him a crib entertainment system that he'd devised that provided soothing light displays, creative, everchanging mobiles made possible by the use of ferromagnetic nanoparticles, and induced movement similar to a driving car. It turned out to be a godsend when the babies were fussy; almost as good as Uncle Bucky.

Then tragedy struck; a few days after my grandma got back from her time visiting her great-grandchildren, she died in her sleep, peacefully. My doctors wouldn't let me go to the funeral since I still wasn't very strong, but Bruce went over for me with my parents and J. Damian found me crying the day of the funeral, unable to soothe the babies who were wailing. "I'm such a shitty mother," I sobbed. "I can't make them happy, I can't even manage to feed them."

Damian took our daughter and put her back in the crib before pulling me against him. "You're the best mother I ever saw. Look at everything you did for them just to bring them into this world. They cry and fuss because who knows what's going on in their little brains. Babies scream; it's their job description to emit everything they've got from both ends. You know that not every mother can breastfeed, and it's nothing to be ashamed about. You were protecting them by not giving them medication that could pass through the milk, and everybody, including your brother, says they're doing amazingly well. They've put on whole pounds of weight, which is a big deal when they're new. You've been through a huge ordeal, and you're not fully recovered from that yet, and you're upset about Grandma. This is normal. But you're the bravest, best mother I could ever imagine and it half kills me to see you beating yourself up over this." He continued to coo over me, hugging and rocking me until I calmed down. I realized then that the babies were calm too; they must have picked up on my upset. But Damian refused to let me wallow in guilt over that too, and put me down for a nap. He'd kept his bedroom office, working from home to help with the babies and me.

It took a couple of months before he started going back to work at his regular office, but he'd really enjoyed working from home. He set up a home office downstairs in one of the parlors with cribs for the babies and spent a day or two each week working from home. As I gradually recovered my strength, I started picking up some of my work as well, and one day I came downstairs to find he'd brought down a pretty table from the attic and set up several monitors and a computer for me. It was very pleasant to work with my family around me.

By the time my maternity leave was up, I'd regained my strength for everyday tasks but I had a long way to go before I could pick up my training responsibilities again. But the doctors and finally fully cleared me and Bucky started getting me back into real shape. Tony had surprised me again when I got back to work in the tower and had installed me in a new office that had a credenza with a lift up top to reveal two cribs underneath so I could bring my babies to work. There was also a minifridge and microwave so that I could give them their bottles without a lot of running around. The Cookie Star had been filled with macarons and set on the corner of the desk. Damian was jealous when I told him about this and a couple of days later had a little setup in his own office. We had to work out a schedule of who took the babies on what day, subject to meetings or the trips I took out to the main lab complex. Damian found that a gurgling, happy baby was an asset in some business conversations; he used the cuteness to distract the people he was negotiating with and get the best terms. He made me laugh when he told me this, but there was no doubt that he loved his offspring and wanted to spend as much time as he could with them. His one complaint, though, was that Bruce kept popping in to steal one of his children. I had the same trouble with Tony and Bucky. Emma didn't do too well with puke or poo, so she was a less frequent visitor, but Loki and Thor showed up regularly to play. Loki was a particular favorite as his ability to turn blue and produce multiple copies of himself was great fun for the kids.

It took a further six months before I was back to training; Bucky had done a fantastic job of getting me back into shape although I might have cursed him out (silently) during the process. Shortly after that, he turned over the hand-to-hand program to me entirely, although he kept his position as weapons master. He said that he starting to slow down and that I was ready. It was an awesome responsibility. My students relied on my training to help keep them alive in the field.

As the kids turned into toddlers, then to older kids, we had to leave them home more, where they could run off their excessive energy. It was Alfred's turn to gloat and tell us what they'd done during the day. It was both a proud and sad day when they started kindergarten. It was astonishing how fast time flew. My darlings had their father's black hair and bright blue eyes and my fair skin. They looked as alike as it was possible for brother and sister. Josie--Bruce called her Martha, and this became accepted--was outgoing and sweet, Xander more reserved, but they both inherited their father's outrageous charm as well. Nora, who had graduated and spent some time in a restaurant, accepted Bruce's offer to take over the kitchen from Alfred, who was developing arthritis. He continued to butle, though, and I took over more of the support role in the bat cave.

The kids were eleven when Bruce died. Was killed. He'd been fighting the Joker on a rooftop. The Joker had pushed him off the rooftop, which normally wouldn't have been a big deal, what with the gadgets he carried, but he'd hit his head... and that was it. Damian saw the whole thing He went down to the street, where he had to remove his father's costume. He left, and when he got home, reported to the police that his father was missing. About an hour later, a patrol car found his body and it was reported that noted businessman and philanthropist Bruce Wayne had been killed in a probable kidnapping attempt. The Joker vanished. I never knew what happened to him, but he never approached me or my family again. Bruce left individual bequests to Alfred, Selina, Dick, Barbara, Jason, Damian, me, and Yale, but the bulk of the money and the businesses were placed in a family trust for Josie and Xander and any offspring they had. The mansion seemed a lot emptier without him. Dick and Damian traded off Batman duties for awhile until Damian felt up to taking the role permanently. It was at this time that Nora was brought into the family secret. She didn't have the medical knowledge that her uncle had, but between the two of us, we managed to fill his shoes competently. He stayed upstairs, directing the running of the household. Damian hired her sister as the pilot for the jet as well as a smaller aircraft he bought for shorter trips.

J, increasingly oppressed by the dictates of insurance company paperwork, left the practice of medicine for medical research, joining the division at Wayne Enterprises that was researching health care challenges for enhanced and superhumans. Neither I nor Damian knew he'd applied until he announced at dinner one night that he'd been hired. He also talked to us about permanently renting the gatehouse. We gave him a lifetime lease for a dollar and the promise to keep an open mind, then took him down to the bat cave. He agreed to provide medical support if necessary but was fascinated by the surgical suite. He and Alfred spent a lot of time down there, increasing the capabilities of the suite. The parts were made by Wayne Enterprises and I installed them.

The kids were fifteen before they discovered the bat cave. Both Damian and I had felt that training them from an early age was too risky and we didn't want to deprive them of a normal childhood. Martha was interested, but she wanted no part of Robin after she found out how her grandpa had really died. Xander was all in, though, and he intensified his gymnastics training with his godfather Dick and my hand to hand. I made Martha up her training there too, as she would face threats just as herself ranging from boys who might not want to take 'no' for an answer to criminals who thought the heiress would be an easy target for kidnapping. Or homocidal grandmothers.

Shortly after the revelation of the bat cave, Damian got word that his grandfather, R'as al Ghul, had finally died. He came home glad and relieved and had a little party to celebrate. A couple of weeks later, I was out with the kids, replacing their school uniforms (they were growing so fast) and we were on the way back to the car when a woman stepped out from behind a pillar.

"Oh. Talia. Goddamn it," I said with resignation.

Her face was hard. "You know my father is dead, and this time there will be no possibility of resurrection by any means. His grave was defiled; I found the remains of a fire nearby with bone fragments." Yay Damian, I thought. "I require an heir, and since my son has been turned against me, I will take one of his children. Let him feel what I have felt."

I surprised her with a laugh. "I don't believe for a second that you ever felt real grief for anything Damian did. You did a fine job of alienating him all by yourself. And if you think that either of the children are coming with you, you are delusional and should be checked. You might be an old woman now" I was taunting her, she looked really good for her age "but I have no problem beating you up. Again." She snarled and gestured, and four goons appeared. So not a challenge for us.

I surveyed the aftermath and shook my head. Martha had a cut on her arm and Xander was going to have a beauty of a black eye, but these could easily be fixed by the accelerator. "Somebody call your dad and tell him that mom beat up grandma again." I myself started to phone the FBI, but hesitated. Talia had been responsible for a biological attack in Turkey two weeks before, and the Turks wanted her badly. So I phoned the Turkish embassy instead, using a burner phone I kept in my purse for emergencies. We picked up our bags and went home. The next day the news that Talia al Ghul was in custody in Turkey was headlined around the world.

"Mom hogged two of the goons and your mom," Xander complained to his father. Damian looked amused. "She said it wouldn't be right for us to beat up our grandmother. I don't see why she got to."

"She isn't my grandma," I pointed out. "Or my mom. My mom is a nice lady."

Damian and the kids laughed. "That she is, Petal," he said, kissing my hand. The kids rolled their eyes at this display of affection.

The summer between high school graduation and the kids going to college (Martha was going to Harvard, Xander to MIT) was a hard one. Uncle Bucky and Emma died within hours of each other, another hard loss for us all. Thor came for Sigurd and Torburn, another loss. Emma left most of her estate to Peter, including her shares of Stark Tech but had some bequests for Martha and Xander. She left a few pieces of the jewelry she'd made to me and a special grappling hook to Damian that would embed itself in virtually anything, a great tool for the Batman. Uncle Bucky left his estate to the kids aside from some specific bequests to mom and dad, J, and me, and was laid to rest beside his best friend Steve Rogers in Arlington. And Alfred died; he took a nap one afternoon and never woke up. He was buried in the family graveyard beside Bruce's plot.

Martha graduated from Harvard with degrees in finance and management and went to Yale for a law degree and MBA. Xander studied mechanical and computer engineering and Tony bought his Brass Rat too, just as he'd done for me, before dying himself. Even though he'd mostly retired, work was never the same without him. That hint that anything was possible if we were just clever enough died with him and it was just sort of work after that. The research continued to be innovative and exciting, but the magic was gone. Or maybe it was just me. Xander went to Cal Tech for grad school, then came back and went to work at the family business. Damian's plan was to have him take over running the labs in time, much the same role as I had at Stark working with J, who had taken over leadership of the medical division but refused to budge farther than that. Xander started to date Aslyn's daughter; her time studying at Georgetown had given her a lot of confidence which made her irresistible to him. Sill, the speed with which they got engaged was a little surprising. "You know when you've found the right one," Xander told me, and I was forced to agree, remembering how Damian and I had clicked together. Damian congratulated them, then gave them each a binder.

Martha was enjoying playing the field too much to settle down, and she was learning the business from her father, a process that both of them enjoyed immensely. We couldn't have been prouder of both our kids. My mom died after a bout of pneumonia she couldn't shake, and my dad died within the year.

But Carolyn and Xander had the first of what turned out to be three children, one girl, two boys, and Damian and I discovered the joy of being grandparents. Martha finally found a man to her liking, strong enough to stand up to her lively personality, kind and tender, and he was a most welcome addition to the family. She was expecting when her father was killed by the Riddler, one of the last of the old-school villains that Batman faced. After the funeral, I hunted him down and snapped his neck. Xander took over as Batman.

What can I say about Damian's loss? I grieved for a good long time, but as it does, time soothed the aching loss to something that could be lived with. Life does go on, and he always made my happiness his priority, so I felt like I owed it to him to go on. I played with our grandchildren and prayed for my son's safety, and found meaning and joy in time again. After a few years, I dated a little, not to find a replacement for the irreplaceable, but for the companionship. Damian had been the perfect man for me, and no one held a tenth of the attraction I'd had for him, so I stopped looking without regret.

I focused my attention on work and family. I was looking around for a replacement trainer myself and thought I had a pretty good candidate. He'd served with our current War Machine in the Air Force and had won national and international karate championships. I started his training in other disciplines, that polyglot training that Uncle Bucky had instituted and was so effective. And he wasn't an Avenger, so the body of knowledge that we were building up could be passed along without the fear of being lost to a combat death. I was fond of my students and had formed strong friendships with several of them, including the Captain America who'd taken up the shield after Sam retired, Kate, our current Hawkeye, and Wanda, getting ready to join her brother in retirement at last. Peter was killed while out and around as Spiderman, and his daughter May took his place as CEO and adapted a new persona in the Avengers, styling herself Iron Paladin despite having none of the metalworking abilities set forth as requirements in the legacy guidelines. She was impulsive like Tony could be, but without the discipline of his intelligence. I didn't like her much; she was in the hero business for the glory of it and used her position as CEO of Stark to feed her ego, believing herself to be every inch the equal of Tony, with his flair for business. Sadly, she wasn't, and the company began to decline, despite all that the board of directors could do. Tony had left me his stock in the company, and with the stock that I'd earned from my employment and buying from other employees, I had a comfortable majority ownership. I had to use it to block some of the stupider things she tried to do, so there was no love lost there. Both Tony and Pepper Potts, who had worked with both Peter and May, had to be spinning in their graves.

Finally I'd had enough, and began to train a replacement for my job at Stark as well. I planned to travel to a few places that Damian hadn't taken me and spend more time with my family. I might as well find out what else retirement had to offer, find some new horizons to explore. I was looking forward to it.

***End***

Keep an eye for book three, Legendary, as Alex still has a few stories to tell.


End file.
